


You Know You're the One for Me

by gwenweybourne



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Angst, Crossover, Dolenzmith - Freeform, Dolenzsmith, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hippies, Keep Off My Grass!, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Monkees prequel, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Swearing, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24172738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenweybourne/pseuds/gwenweybourne
Summary: Newly discharged from the air force and traveling cross-country toward California, Mike Nesmith comes upon a small hippie settlement in Louisiana. The local residents are kind and welcoming, but there's a young man with a huge smile and wild curly hair who particularly catches Mike's eye. His friends don't take him seriously and he doesn't even seem to have a proper name. They just call him ... You Know. But Mike would prefer to know what his real name is ...
Relationships: Micky Dolenz/Mike Nesmith
Comments: 63
Kudos: 40





	1. Welcome to Violets, Louisiana

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the most obscure crossover I've written (yet). I finally saw the old 1975 movie Micky did called _Keep Off My Grass!_ It was marketed as a stoner comedy, but it was quite a bit more serious than that. The basic plot is that a group of hippies, deemed a nuisance by local townsfolk, are relocated to an abandoned town several miles down the road to form their own society. I was very charmed by Micky's character, who is called You Know. You Know is a wannabe pot entrepreneur who has a single plant to tend, and he's a hopeless virgin who consistently strikes out with the ladies (he's got zero game). But he's sweet and funny and earnest and not unlike Monkee-Micky (with a dash of Peter). So, why not say You Know is Monkee-Micky with a nickname?
> 
> [usedusernames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedusernames/pseuds/usedusernames) remarked that the setting could potentially work as a Monkees prequel/Dolenzmith origin story and I went, "Oooh!" And I also felt like You Know got a raw deal, so I decided to write something nice for him.
> 
> So, you don't need to have seen the film for the story to make sense. It's just one of my favorite romance tropes: "No one understands how amazing this person is except ME." Mike comes to town and he wants the person that no one else seems to want.

Mike whistled softly to himself as he walked down the darkened main street in Violets, Louisiana. He had a worn duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a battered guitar case in his hand. He was looking for a quiet place to sleep outside, but it wasn’t the only thing he was on the prowl for.

He’d turned up in Violets earlier in the day, having been directed to this strange hippie outpost by residents of the neighboring town, Brandonville — suited establishment types and business owners — who took one look at Mike’s long hair, worn dungarees, guitar, and made it clear that his “kind” was more welcome about fifty miles down the road. Mike had found the reception ironic, considering he’d just been discharged from the air force. But he’d traveled down from the base in Shreveport and treated himself to a couple of weeks of debauchery in New Orleans — where his short military haircut steadily grew out — before continuing his slow journey out west to California, with possibly a pit stop in his home state of Texas, to say hi to the folks and refuel. Maybe score a little bread for the rest of the trip. Mike had a dream of going to Los Angeles and becoming part of the music scene that was blowing up out there. The air force hadn’t been his bag at all, but he’d signed up as a way out of his hometown, figuring he’d find a way to get himself discharged before he could get shipped out to war. Tipping over a general’s airplane seemed to do the trick.

And so he’d blown into town like a tumbleweed and found all these strange, grubby kids squatting in abandoned houses with no electricity or indoor plumbing. But they seemed happy, and appeared to live communally, scraping together money from returning bottles and selling crafts and living and loving in their little rundown utopia.

Mike didn’t lump himself in with the hippie rabble, though he somewhat looked the part with his hair and clothes. His look was more disheveled cowboy than flower child, however. But he had goals and a vision and someday he wanted nice things like a house and some cars and some money in the bank. He wanted success. But these people were kind and Mike respected kindness and compassion. They were welcoming to strangers, and on this first day Mike had met some people, like Jerry, who seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group; his lady, Twila; and a few others. They were all hanging out in front of yet another rundown house belonging to a man who went by the name Wolfman when Mike ambled by.

“Hey, brother!” Jerry had called out. “You look beat. You wanna drink of something? Food?”

Mike had been able to thumb two rides three-quarters of the distance. With over an hour wait between each pickup; plus walking the last quarter. There were definitely some bad vibes going on between the two places and he was weary after waiting and walking in the hot Louisiana sun.

“Yeah, man. I’d rightly appreciate that. My name’s Mike.”

“I’m Jerry. Come here and take a load off. Violets welcomes you.”

* * *

And Mike had rested in the shade for a couple of hours while they gave him water and some simple food to fill his belly. He’d been very grateful, but politely turned down the grass they were passing around. Not that he didn’t partake, but he didn’t feel like getting stoned when he wasn’t quite sure what his plans were. Whether he wanted to crash in this strange settlement for a few days or push on to a more civilized place with a shower.

He didn’t talk a lot, more content to absorb their rambling conversation when one of the girls sighed.

“Oh, boy … here comes … You Know …”

The rest of the group chuckled with equal parts affection and annoyance and Mike furrowed his brow in confusion until a young man scurried up to them. He had wild, brown, curly hair, sparkling brown eyes, and energy seemed to vibrate through his tall, slim frame. An energy that Mike felt crackling between them. _Well … how about that …_

“Hey, hey guys!” the boy said excitedly. “Hey … guess what?”

“What’s that, You Know?” asked Jerry.

“My pot plant, man! It’s grown like, two inches in the past day! I swear! It’s thriving! It really likes the soil here! It’s so groovy! Before long I’ll be able to plant more and more … and more, y’know?!” the boy bounced on his feet and grinned at the group. Mike found himself caught up by his wide, sunny smile. The boy noticed Mike and steadied his gaze upon him. Mike felt a flush of warmth run through his body.

“Oh, hey! Are you new, man?”

“This is Mike,” said Jerry. “Says he’s passing through, but I think we’re hoping to convince him to stay awhile. Was an air force man.”

The rest of the hippies blew dismissive raspberries.

Mike chuckled. “Yeah … but was given an honorable discharge.”

“Tell You Know what you did,” said Jerry, grinning.

 _You know what you did … what’s he talking about?_ Mike thought, but shrugged and decided to focus on the part of the question he understood. “I was cleanin’ a general’s airplane and I tipped ’er right over.”

The hippies roared with laughter.

“Right on, brother!”

“That is beyond groovy!”

“That’s a fuckin’ gas, man. Did you get to see what his face looked like?”

“Stone groove, brother. Stone groove.”

“You stick it to those pigs!”

The boy grinned at Mike. “Wow … wow, man. That’s wild. So … are you gonna stick around awhile?”

Mike shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet. I’m ultimately headed out west. California.”

“You gonna be a rock ‘n’ roll singer?” one of the girls said, nudging Mike’s guitar case with a bare, delicate, but dirty foot, her tone half jeering, half curious.

“Somethin’ like that. That’s the plan.”

“That’s real groovy, Mike,” the boy said. “I’m … farming weed here. That’s my thing.”

“One measly plant!” a girl named Jessica sneered.

“Not even —” the guy named Bingo muttered before Jerry glared at him and he fell silent.

“Well … well … you gotta start somewhere!” the boy said indignantly, but smiled to soften his outburst. “I, uh … gotta go and get some more water. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See ya, You Know!” Jerry called as the boy shambled away.

The group chuckled when the young man was out of earshot and Mike wondered what had just transpired.

“Now, who was that?” Mike asked.

“Oh, You Know,” Twila said with a soft laugh.

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

“No!” Jerry chuckled. “That’s his name. Or what we call him, anyway. You. Know. It’s kind of a funny, groovy nickname.”

“He’s an okay kid, I guess, but he’s kind of a pest,” said Jessica. “When we were in the old town he’d come over and start chattering away and at some point someone said, ‘Oh, look, it’s You Know Who coming by.’ And it became kind of a gag, dig? ‘Who?’ ‘Oh, You Know.’ And it just stuck. He digs it.”

Mike gave her a sidelong glance and scowled. Having been on the receiving end of both, he knew the difference between an affectionate nickname and a mocking one, and this sounded like the latter.

Jessica scowled in return. “Hey, don’t lay a heavy judgment trip on me, man. You don’t know You Know. Like I said, he’s a real pest sometimes! He drives all the girls nuts. He’s a virgin and won’t admit it and is just after one of us to lay him all the time. It’s such a drag.”

“Well, why don’t one of y’all take pity on the kid? He ain’t ugly.” _I think he’s pretty far out, actually._

The girls broke into giggles.

“Oh my god, no! It would be like making it with my little brother, ew.”

“With You Know? Come on!”

“I don’t got time for no virgins,” Jessica huffed. “Let some other chick do that hard work breakin’ him in. I want a man who knows what he’s doing between the sheets.” She smirked and shot Mike a flirtatious look.

“Now, now,” Jerry interrupted gently. “Let’s lay off our friend You Know, okay? You’re right, Mike. He’s a good kid and he certainly ain’t bad-lookin’, but he hasn’t found the right person to show him the way yet. But he will. In the meantime, he brings good vibes and he’s thinking himself to be something of a botanist.”

“Botanist!” Jessica snorted. “Yeah, right. And he thinks that spindly little plant is actually —”

“Let it be, Jessica!” Jerry said sternly. “Let You Know do his thing. It makes him happy. And that’s all we want in our community, right? Happiness and peace.”

“And what’s your story, Tex?” asked one of the girls, Caroline, reaching out to touch his arm. “You surely need a place to crash.”

Jessica glared at her.

Mike looked at both of them. They were pretty enough, for sure, but they were also laughing behind the back of the cute, awkward boy he’d just met and that made them seem a little ugly to him. He shifted his weight, just enough to remove his arm from Caroline’s touch. Enough that she noticed and frowned at him. Jessica smirked.

“I’ll be all right. I’m just passin’ through. I like sleepin’ outdoors when the weather permits.”

“You’re free to grab any patch of green that strikes your fancy,” said Jerry. “We can fix you up with some food for your journey if you’re planning on taking off tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s mighty charitable of you, Jerry,” said Mike, extending his hand to shake. “I’d appreciate that. I can trade for some physical labor now that I’ve rested up a bit. I don’t mind it none, and I’m good with my hands.”

“Oh, I just bet you are,” Jessica purred.

Mike smirked. Caroline glared this time.

Jerry chuckled. “I see you’ve noticed we got a lot that needs fixin’ up around here. Sure, Mike. If you’re offering, I’ll accept. Our friends Lainey and John are expecting a baby and we’re trying to get their house fit for a little one.”

Mike smiled. “Point me in the right direction.”

* * *

And so he’d spent the rest of the day fixing up window frames and cutting large panes of old repurposed glass to fit. The sun was still hot; he’d stripped to his waist and was sawing lumber when he saw You Know wander by again. Mike looked up and the boy saw him and raised a hand shyly in greeting. Mike smirked and gave him a broad wink, which made You Know jump slightly and blush before scurrying away. Mike grinned and got back to work. He definitely had a feeling about this kid. Mike was into women and men … he got it wherever he could get it, essentially. Didn’t see any sense in limiting himself, and his time in the Air Force had solidified his notion that even guys who said they were only into women didn’t always necessarily stick to that belief when they were hard up. Mike didn’t mind getting a piece when someone was feeling a bit desperate. You Know was a cute little thing and no one had thought to take a taste yet. Violets had gotten a lot more interesting real quick.

The house still needed a lot of work, but the expecting hippie couple seemed very happy to at least now have proper windows to keep out the rain and wind. They insisted Mike stay for supper, an offer he was all too happy to accept, but politely refused when they asked him to spend the night.

“It’s no bother,” he said. “I really do wanna sleep under the stars, though if the weather turns …”

“No one locks doors around here even if they could,” said Lainey, stroking her round belly. “You’re free to come back and crash if you change your mind or it starts to rain.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

“Ma’am!” Lainey exclaimed, leaning in to kiss Mike on the cheek. “My mother is a ‘ma’am!’ I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t make a habit of it, buster!”

Mike had laughed and shaken John’s hand before grabbing his gear and heading out into the dusky evening. He wanted to find You Know and had a decent idea of where he might be.

* * *

And here he was, headed in the direction of You Know’s minuscule “plantation,” where he saw the young man sitting next to his fledgling plant, which he’d fenced off, and was talking softly to it. Mike couldn’t make out the words, but it definitely seemed like You Know felt better talking to his plant than to his so-called “friends.”

He counted on the sound of his footsteps to announce his presence, but You Know seemed to be off in his own world, so Mike cleared his throat and stood in place about six feet away.

“Oh!” the boy exclaimed. “Oh, hi … um … you’re the … plane guy.”

Mike chuckled. “Yeah. The plane guy. Mike.”

“Yeah, man, sorry … Mike! How … how’s it goin’? You like Violets?”

Mike nodded. “I like it fine. People have been real groovy.”

“You look like you’re looking for somewhere to crash. No one offered?” You Know said, frowning, surprised.

“Naw, brother. I got some offers, but after a year or so of sleeping in a big ol’ barracks full of people … well, I like sleeping outdoors when I can. Lainey and John said I could crash at their pad if the weather turned bad. But I think it’s meant to be nice tonight.”

“Oh,” said You Know, slowly getting to his feet. “That’s groovy. I’m … just checking on my plant before I … I got a chick waiting for me.”

“Hey, that’s cool,” Mike said, “but before you go … I got a question.”

You Know wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and looked at Mike curiously. “Yeah?”

“Why do they call you You Know?” Mike asked.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t really remember anymore. It just happened and stuck … you know?” And then he chuckled at his own joke, his wide mouth stretching into a sunny smile and Mike thought he’d never seen anything more lovely, even though he knew You Know was lying.

“What’s your real name, kid?” Mike asked.

You Know furrowed his brow, tilting his head to one side. “You really wanna know?”

“Well … yeah. You seem surprised.”

The boy shrugged. “I guess … no one really asks.”

“Well, I’m askin’ ya! What, are you ashamed of the name your family gave you?”

“No … no!” You Know said, frowning. “It’s a perfectly fine name. My father’s name, George. But my family always called me by a short form of my middle name …” The boy bit his lip and looked mischievously at Mike in a way that made Mike want to pin him against a wall and kiss him senseless. “Michael.”

Mike furrowed his brow for a moment and then cracked up. “No foolin’! Do your people call you Mike?”

“Micky,” the boy said, flushing with pleasure at having made the Texan laugh. “They call me Micky.”

“I’d prefer to call you Micky if that’s all right by you.”

“Sure. You can call me whatever you want, really, it’s no big thing … I don’t have any hang-ups about it …” Micky said shyly, looking away.

“I think a man’s name is a ‘big thing.’ I like your name.”

“Gee, thanks,” Micky said, blushing. “That’s groovy of you to say.”

“I like _you_ , Micky.” Mike took a step closer to the flustered boy.

Micky’s head whipped up. “Huh?”

“You heard me. I know you said you got a chick waiting on you, but … they tell me it’s some kind of running joke that you can’t get a girl to go to bed with you. I don’t think that’s a joke at all. I think you’re great-looking and a kinda groovy cat. You ever thought about looking for a guy instead?”

“Oh, wow, man,” Micky stammered, flabbergasted, unable to even defend his own lie. “I … I’m flattered, but … I’m not … not …”

“Into guys?” Mike finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure about that? Have you ever messed around with a guy before?”

“Well … no …” Micky was still stammering, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted nervously.

Mike took another step closer, curious to see if Micky would back away. But he didn’t. He just kept fidgeting with his long fingers, practically shaking. But he wasn’t shrinking away. This was good news. There was possibility here. Mike might have the virgin for his own just yet.

He lowered his voice to a husky whisper as he set down his guitar and bag. “Has a girl ever kissed you real nice like this?” He leaned right in, taking Micky’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, half-expecting the boy to bolt, but he stayed still, trembling as Mike kissed him tenderly on the mouth, holding it for several beats, then easing off.

Micky stared at him, astonished. “N-n-no …” he stammered. “Not like that.”

“How about like this?” Bolder now, Mike curled his fingers around the nape of Micky’s neck and went in to kiss him again, only this time he licked at Micky’s lips, seeking entrance, and thrilling when Micky opened his mouth and let Mike taste him, his own tongue tentatively exploring.

Confident he wasn’t going to be rebuffed, Mike pulled the boy close and they kissed long and deep and passionately. Mike could still feel Micky trembling and rubbed his back in slow circles. He rolled his hips up against Micky’s and was pleased to find a nice stiff cock in Micky’s jeans. The boy was so hard up. He was a decent kisser and cute as a button … how no girl had wanted to let him into her bed was beyond him, but Mike would gladly take on the exquisite task of deflowering Micky if the kid would let him.

Mike broke the kiss for a moment and murmured, “Has a girl ever touched you like this?” And he slid his hand down Micky’s torso and began to rub his erection through his jeans.

Micky let out a sharp gasp, his hips bucking into Mike’s touch. “Once … it was a while ago …” He failed to mention the part where he came in his pants embarrassingly fast and the girl had been equal parts pitying and disgusted and he still didn’t know which one had stung more.

“Do you want me to keep touching you?”

“Y-y-yes …”

“Even though I’m a guy?”

“Please … Mike …”

“I’ll do you one better,” Mike said. He gently pressed Micky up against the old abandoned camper van and went down on his knees before reaching up to open Micky’s belt and unzip his jeans.

“What … I … oh …” Micky gasped, unable to form a complete sentence.

Micky wasn’t wearing any underwear and his erection sprang out as Mike opened his pants. “Beautiful,” he murmured, then made quick work of taking Micky deep into his mouth and sucking him hard.

Micky clapped both hands over his mouth, but not before his surprised cry of pleasure leaked out.

_I don’t think he’s ever gotten head before. This cherry boy is so fresh. All mine._

“Oh my god … shit … Mike … oh …” Micky moaned, hips twitching, his hands falling down to thread anxious fingers through Mike’s hair.

Mike sucked Micky hungrily, playing with his balls and feeling them get tight and hot as he neared orgasm. _Fastest blowjob in the west. Knew he wouldn’t last long at all. Get this one outta the way and hopefully he’ll last longer when I get him into bed._

“I’m gonna … I’m gonna … I’m coming … coming!” Micky moaned and Mike was ready to swallow him down as Micky ejaculated into his mouth.

He pulled off Micky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he got to his feet.

Micky stared at him in baffled wonderment, pulling up his jeans and tucking himself in before doing up his pants and belt.

“I’ll assume no chick ever did that for you before,” Mike said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Micky shook his head mutely, his eyes wide. Then he swallowed nervously and nodded at Mike’s crotch. “I guess I should … if you want me to … I could …”

Mike shook his head. “I was thinking — if you want — we can go back to your pad and you can screw me. How does that sound?”

Micky’s jaw dropped. “R-r-really? You mean it?”

“I ain’t a chick, but I’m pretty dynamite in the sack. I’ll show you a real good time. I think I proved that already.”

Micky nodded dumbly. Mike smirked and looked at him as he picked up his things. “Well … lead the way, Mick.”

“Oh, man! Yeah … let’s go …” Micky said sheepishly, falling into step next to Mike as they walked down the quiet street. “My pad is just on the next block. It’s kinda fallin’ down a bit, but it’s all mine! Well … no one wanted to crash with me, but that’s okay. Means we got some privacy.”

Mike cast a sidelong glance at the boy, who was biting his lip. He was a bit manic and jumpy, but seemed like a nice enough person. Cute as hell. And no one wanted to live with him? Wasn’t this a commune? On one hand, Mike wondered if there was something about You Know/Micky that was truly off-putting that he hadn’t discovered yet. On the other hand, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him and he was going get laid by this pretty boy.

“We’ll see about that,” he remarked casually.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Micky asked, confused.

Mike smirked. “If what’s goin’ on in my head ends up happening in your bed, I’ll have you waking the entire town up with how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

Micky let out an embarrassed laugh, smiling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Are you for real, man?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

“Mike? I … I gotta know, man. Why … me?” Micky asked quickly, then looked away, grimacing as if asking the question was going to make Mike change his mind. Mike swore he fell a little bit in love in that very moment.

“Why _not_ you, huh?”

Micky shrugged, kicking a pebble away. “Cuz … no one else wants to make it with me. No girls, anyway … I don’t think there are any other fags here …”

“Hey!” Mike said sharply enough that Micky looked at him, alarmed. “I don’t dig that word, man. All you hippies go on about your peace and love and harmony… you still get all hung up on labels. I ball chicks, too, man. I like it. I’m good at it.”

Micky blushed.

“But yeah, I also like to screw guys. And I like it.” Mike looked pointedly at Micky. “And you’re about to find out that I’m very good at it.”

“Mike …” Micky whispered.

“I don’t know what happened for you to get the rap you have, but you’re a stone fox, Micky. And I wanna take all of your clothes off and get a good look at you.”

“Oh, man …” Micky murmured, overwhelmed by everything Mike was saying. “Um … this is my pad … watch for the big hole in the porch.” He jumped over the gaping maw and pushed the rotting door open.

Mike jumped over the hole and carefully followed Micky inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Come on in … just let me get some candles lit,” Micky said, hurrying ahead of Mike, clearly familiar with moving around in the dark in his adopted home. Mike heard the sound of a match being struck before it flamed to life and Micky lit a series of lumpy candles on a mantelpiece above a boarded-up fireplace. His bed consisted of an old mattress on the bare floor, but he had sheets, some threadbare blankets, and a couple of old pillows. It would do. The candlelight gave the shabby little old house a cozy feel, but it still seemed like a lot of house for one boy. Which was probably why Micky chose to sleep in the main room instead of one of the bedrooms (though the rickety stairs to the second floor looked like a death trap). Mike wondered if Micky got lonely.

Mike set down his bag and guitar and held Micky’s gaze as he shrugged off his denim jacket and bent to remove his boots. Micky swallowed nervously and took his jacket and shoes off, as well.

Mike walked around to the other side of the mattress to stand in front of Micky and he lifted the hem of his T-shirt, compelling the boy to lift his arms up in the air so Mike could pull the shirt off over his head. Mike looked at Micky’s naked torso and ran his hands down over the boy’s narrow, lightly haired chest, watching the candlelight dance over his skin.

“You’re sexy,” Mike said simply.

“I’m skinny.”

“Sexy. As all hell.” And Mike leaned in and kissed Micky and again, they sank into deep, hungry kisses and Mike was undoing Micky’s pants again and pulling his jeans down over his hips. Micky was already hard again, his erection pressing up against Mike’s hip.

Mike broke the kiss and began to take his own clothes off, with Micky eagerly trying to help even as he stepped out of his pants and plucked off his socks, mostly getting in the way, but in a most endearing sort of way. He was just so eager, seeming to have mentally worked past the idea of going to bed with another man, and ready for whatever awaited him. Mike made a silent promise to himself that he’d make this first time as good for Micky as he possibly could. He wasn’t sure how this sweet kid had come to be the whipping boy of this community, but Mike wanted to show him something else. Something better.

“Holy shit.” Was Micky’s flat exclamation when Mike took his jeans off and revealed his erection. He had a big dick, no two ways about it.

“Why thank you.” Mike grinned as he lowered himself onto the mattress and reached for Micky’s hand, inviting him.

But Micky hesitated. “But … I … are you gonna … it’s so big, Mike …”

“Relax, Micky,” Mike said softly. “I asked you to lay me, remember? I won’t be screwing you with my dick or anything else. In fact, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ you don’t want me to do. I’ll leave if you’ve changed your mind. But you gotta tell me.”

“No … no!” Micky said quickly. “No … I … just got spooked for a sec. I’m okay, really. Please don’t leave.”

Mike reached for him again. “C’mere, baby. Let’s just make out for a little while, okay? There’s no rush. We got all night.”

Micky nodded and this time he took Mike’s hand and eased down next to him on the mattress. Mike slipped his arms around Micky’s slender frame and kissed him, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin with this pretty boy for the first time.

Micky moaned softly into the kiss, clearly enjoying the sensation as well. Mike ran his hands through Micky’s curly hair and rolled the boy onto his back, kissing down his neck and over his chest, teasing his small, hard nipples with his teeth and tongue, causing Micky to arch up and moan. Mike could feel Micky’s erection burning against him, slick with precome. _I could eat this kid up, but he’ll never make it to the main event if I hold him off for too much longer._

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and Micky stared up at him, panting, eyes unfocused. “Whuh-why … huh?” he stammered.

Mike smirked and patted him on the cheek. “Just pausing for a second, hot stuff. I need somethin’ from my bag.” He slipped off the mattress and grabbed his duffel bag, unzipping it and rooting around inside until he came up with what he wanted.

Micky watched questioningly as Mike sat down and opened the jar of Vaseline.

Mike grinned, smearing some of the jelly onto his hand. “I’m gonna let you fuck me now, Micky. But we gotta slick you up a little bit. Otherwise it ain’t so fun for me.”

“Oh … oh!” Micky said, then groaned as Mike wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked the slick over his length. “ _Oh_.”

_God, this kid. I should have blown him a second time to ensure he wasn’t gonna bust a nut the second he gets inside me. Well, it’s too late now. We got all night to get it right._

Mike rubbed his slick fingers over and around his hole and lay down on his back, spreading his long legs and urging Micky on top of him.

Micky settled between Mike’s legs, bracing himself up on his arms. He looked equal parts excited and nervous.

“Mike … I …” he mumbled, looking embarrassed.

“It’s all right, baby,” Mike said softly, reaching down to help guide Micky’s cock. “Just go slow at first, okay? This ain’t my first rodeo and you won’t hurt me, but it’ll be tight at first. Gotta work me in a little. And then … it’s just screwin’. You know how it works. _You Know_.”

Micky let out a soft laugh, then he made a more surprised face as he hit resistance. Mike made a soft sound. “Just push in … I can take it. I can take all of you. Give it to me.”

Micky groaned as he pushed his hips forward and then let out a startled cry as he breached the ring of muscle and sank into Mike. “Oh … oh my god! Holy … shit, Mike!”

Mike looked up, drinking in the expression on Micky’s face. The moment when fantasy became finally reality. It only happened once and he got to witness it from this delicious boy.

Mike still enjoyed making it with women, but he didn’t mess with female virgins anymore. It was delicate work deflowering a girl and trying not to make it too painful, and meanwhile in the back of his head he’d be worrying about knocking her up or her saying she didn’t want anything serious and then changing her mind after making love. He was getting way too old for all that shit. No, Mike liked a girl who knew what she wanted and how she wanted it.

Male virgins like Micky … they couldn’t get pregnant and all they usually really wanted was to fuck. And Micky definitely wanted to fuck. He began to thrust, slowly at first and Mike groaned happily. Oh, this felt good.

He watched Micky’s eyes flutter shut and he began to thrust faster and harder, moaning in pleasure, rocking his hips in short, shallow thrusts that went faster and faster and not even coming close to hitting Mike’s sweet spot, though his cock was certainly big and long enough to get the job done. Boy was just losing control, was all.

Mike frowned. “Micky … slow down … I don’t like it like that … Micky …”

“Oh god,” Micky moaned. “Oh fuck, it’s so good … oh yeah …”

“Micky … you listenin’ to me?”

Micky was lost in his own world and finally Mike grabbed the boy’s hips and held him fast. Micky gazed down at him, panting, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Slow down,” Mike instructed. “Slow the hell down. I get it, baby … that urge to just jackrabbit away, but it ain’t so fun for the person on the bottom. Girls especially don’t care for it. I know it feels good, but makin’ love ain’t all just about you. That’s what jerkin’ off is for.”

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Micky gasped. “I’m sorry —”

“Don’t be sorry … but you gotta listen when I’m talking to you. Now just roll your hips and go in deep, oh … fuck … yeah, that’s good, baby. Keep doin’ that. You can go faster, but just leave the turbo setting alone, okay?”

“Okay,” Micky panted, doing his best to follow Mike’s instructions. He was lousy at so many things and he didn’t want to be a bad lay on top of everything else after he finally got a shot. “Okay, Mike … oh god it feels so fucking good, Mike … is pussy this good?”

“Pussy is real good, but I like this better, to be honest,” Mike groaned, rocking his hips up to meet Micky’s thrusts. “You’re makin’ me feel real good, baby. You’re doin’ great.”

Micky beamed at the praise and then kissed Mike enthusiastically, moving harder and deeper and Mike was surprised he was lasting this long. He hadn’t held out any hope that Micky would be able to make him come this way before he shot his load, but Mike was getting close. He groaned and wrapped his legs around Micky’s waist, using his muscles to help direct Micky’s thrusts so the boy was hitting him just right.

“Fuck me, Micky …” he grunted. “Fuck me just like that. I’m close … you’re gonna make me come, baby … make me come … keep doin’ me just like that …”

Micky moaned. “Oh god, I wanna make you come, Mike. I wanna make you feel so good …” he whimpered and buried his face into Mike’s neck, kissing and licking and panting hot against his skin as his hips rolled, eagerly thrusting.

“Oh fuck … Micky … Micky!” Mike cried out and he was coming, writhing under Micky’s body as he ejaculated over his stomach and chest, feeling the hot liquid smear between their bodies as Micky fucked him through his orgasm, and then Micky was coming, crying out in ecstasy, pumping joyfully into Mike as he hit his peak.

And then Micky let out a final strangled groan and went still, panting against Mike’s neck.

Mike closed his eyes for a moment and let the fog clear from his brain. Then he patted Micky affectionately on his little ass. “Congratulations, Micky. You ain’t a virgin no more.”

“I got laid,” Micky sighed happily, then slowly pulled out of Mike and flopped down next to him on the bed. He bit his lip, grinning, then raised both arms triumphantly in the air and crowed, “I GOT LAID!!!!”

“Oof.” Mike winced, rubbing the ear closest to Micky’s mouth. But he smiled in spite of himself. “You sure as hell did. And gave me a damn good ride. Especially considering it was your first time.”

“I was good?” Micky asked eagerly. “I really was good?”

“You were outta sight, Micky. I feel really groovy now.”

Micky smiled so wide it felt like his face would almost split. He felt tired, but good, but excited. He rolled over onto his side and plucked a half-smoked joint from a makeshift ashtray before hopping out of bed to light it off a candle to avoid wasting a match. He inhaled deeply with a contented sound and gestured with the joint at Mike in a “want some?” manner.

Mike nodded, reaching up to take the joint from Micky as the boy reclined next to him, propping up on an elbow. “Oh, hell yeah. I wasn’t feeling it earlier, but I love a good toke after I fuck.”

Micky exhaled grinning. “Yeah, man. I can see that … well, I guess I know now.”

They passed the joint back and forth a few times until Mike raised his hand in a “that’s enough” gesture. “I’m good, baby. That will knock me right out.”

Micky carefully extinguished the joint, checking for glowing embers. Jerry and Dr. Cal had lectured him over and over again about being really careful about candles and burning incense or smoking grass. He wasn’t dumb … he knew the old house full of dry wood would go up like a matchstick if he passed out and a candle fell over or a stray ember got away. It was another reason he decided to sleep in the main room: it was closest to the front door.

He looked at the candles on the mantelpiece and then looked at Mike. “I … uh … you can stay the night … if you want? I know you said you wanted to sleep outside, but —”

“I want,” Mike interrupted, yawning. “I’ll stay.”

“… really?” Micky blurted before he could stop himself. In the old town he’d crashed in the communal pad with the other kids. Even if he wasn’t getting laid, he at least had company at night. The sounds of other people breathing and murmuring was comforting to him. In Violets, he had to sleep all alone every night and while he’d never admit it to anyone, he got lonely and sometimes a little scared. The house made strange sounds and sometimes he could hear animals off in the distance and he worried about the broken window on the back porch.

But tonight, he had someone. Even if it was just for a night.

“Yeah, really,” Mike answered. “C’mon … let’s get some sleep. You wore me right out, baby.”

Micky smiled happily. “Yeah … okay … just a sec …” He slipped out of bed and carefully blew out the candles, one by one, and when he got back into bed, it was warm and full of Mike, who spooned up behind Micky and kissed his shoulder. He felt comfortable and safe.

“Good night, Micky.”

“G’night, Mike.”


	2. Maybe I Dig You, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Micky spend a (mostly) private day together in bed. Mike decides maybe he'll stick around a little bit longer. Even though his growing feelings for Micky have got him a little worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read the first chapter! I wasn't sure what the reception would considering it's based on a really obscure film and have been pleasantly surprised. Sorry it's taken a while to get the next chapter up. Real life got real busy for a couple weeks, but I hope you enjoy this installment!

The sun streamed in through the torn sheet Micky was using as a curtain, waking him up slowly. He yawned and stretched and rolled over, then startled for a moment when he remembered that he wasn’t alone in bed for once. Mike was lying next to him, on his side, facing away from Micky, revealing the long length of his naked back and the way his thick, dark hair curled and waved at the nape of his neck.

Micky pressed his lips together, trying to contain his excitement as he ran through the previous night’s events. Mike … the groovy new guy in town … wanted him … You Know … Micky. Micky didn’t understand why, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d told Mike that he wasn’t into guys but that wasn’t really completely true. At all. He’d just thought it would be easier to go after chicks. Simpler. But it hadn’t been simple at all. And then out of nowhere, Mike had showed up. Mike … Mike was really foxy. And experienced. And … incredible.

_He gave me head. That was really good. And then … he let me screw him. And I made him come. That means I did pretty good, I think. He said I was good._

He wanted to run out and shout it in the streets, but also he wondered what his friends would say if they found out he’d lost his virginity to a man. _Does it still count? Sure it does. We … had sex. He let me put my dick inside him. It felt so good. And he liked it, too._

He wanted to do it again. He really wanted to do it again. And already he was getting the feeling that maybe nothing about this was going to be simple at all, either. But he couldn’t think about that right now. Instead Micky reached out hesitantly, nervously, almost as if Mike might disappear in a puff of smoke if Micky touched him. But he did anyway, lightly drawing his fingertips down the length of Mike’s back, then up to pet his hair a little.

Mike made a sleepy sound and slowly rolled over. He smacked his lips a few times and grunted, tugging Micky into his arms and nuzzling his cheek.

Micky flushed happily, letting himself be held and kissing whatever parts of Mike he could reach. And it didn’t take long before Micky was breathing fast and pawing at the other man, rubbing his erection up against his stomach, kissing him eagerly on the mouth.

Mike broke the kiss and grinned. “Hang on … hang on … cool it, baby. Before you get all worked up into a lather …”

Micky looked at Mike, confused and somewhat dismayed. “Huh?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’m happy to stay in bed and get off with you some more. I got nothin’ else planned and I reckon you don’t, either.”

Micky smiled, relieved.

“But, uh … a fella’s got other needs, dig? Like … I know you ain’t got any electricity or running water. So what do you do for … you got a latrine or somethin’?”

“Hmm? Oh … oh! Yeah, um … it’s kinda primitive here, man. There’s an outhouse out back. It’s kinda … well, it’s not the Hilton, if you know what I mean?”

Mike patted Micky’s cheek and sat up in bed. “Don’t gotta be fancy … just need to take a leak. And get a drink of water?”

Micky sat up as well, watching Mike tug on his boxer shorts and step into his cowboy boots. The look was weirdly sexy to him. He really couldn’t believe this groovy guy was staying in his bed … and was going to have sex with him again. “Um, yeah. You’ll pass through the kitchen on the way out back. I got some jars of clean water in there. The big one I use for washing up, the smaller ones for drinking. There’s some food, too, if you’re hungry. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

“Water’s fine for now,” Mike said, glancing back at Micky with a grin as he clomped out of the room in his boots. “Let’s work up an appetite first and then we’ll rustle up some grub.”

He left the room and Micky stared after him. He heard the back door open and shut and only then did he allow himself to laugh softly in wonderment. Yesterday had just been another ordinary day. Tending to his pot plant and hanging around town … trying yet again to convince one of the girls to go to bed with him. And then suddenly here he was … naked in bed with … another man. This groovy guy who wanted to be with Micky. Sought Micky out when he could have easily scored with someone else. _Why me? I still don’t get it._

And when Mike came back into the house and paused in the kitchen to wash his hands and face, and pour two glasses of water before bringing them back to the living room, he saw Micky sat up in bed, blankets loosely covering his thighs, but his naked body otherwise exposed. He smiled brilliantly, pushing a hand through his unruly curls. Mike thought he was gorgeous. And the boy’s dick was hard again. _Such an appetite. Boy’s starved. He is gonna wear me out and I’m gonna let him._

“Well, ain’t that a nice sight to see in the morning,” Mike remarked, handing a glass of water to Micky, who smiled as he accepted it and took a drink.

Micky blushed. “You … you really turn me on, man. I didn’t … I …”

Mike took a few sips of water and set his glass down as Micky did the same. Mike casually pulled off his underwear, sat down and tugged Micky into his arms, kissing his neck as he let his hand drift down and he began to stroke Micky slowly. Micky let out a shuddering moan.

“I thought you hippies were supposed to be all open minded and all about love,” Mike murmured against Micky’s skin, nipping him gently and squeezing his cock, feeling the precome welling at the tip. “Open yourself to new experiences.”

“Yes,” Micky moaned. “Yes … please … I wanna fuck you again …”

“You can,” Mike murmured. “But why don’t you touch me a little first? Turn me on the way you are. Make me really want it, baby.”

And he let go of Micky’s erection and lay back, waiting for his young lover to make the next move.

Micky blinked for a moment, registering the loss of Mike’s hand on him, and realizing that he had been doing most of the taking and not very much giving. But Mike was so just confident and seductive and experienced … but now he expected Micky to take the lead. He looked at Micky, his long, lean body stretched out luxuriously over the old mattress, his eyes hooded, a lazy smile curving his full mouth. A long silver chain with a small medal hung around his neck, the metal glinting slightly in the morning sun, in stark relief against his dark chest hair. Micky hadn’t noticed that before in the dark and the haze of lust and nerves the night before.

He gave a nervous smile and leaned in to kiss Mike on the mouth, teasing his lips with his tongue until Mike parted his lips and let Micky taste him. They both groaned softly. Micky hesitantly ran his hand over Mike’s chest, feeling the soft hair and his small, hard nipples. Mike made a little sound in the back of his throat when Micky touched his nipple, so he tried doing it some more.

“That’s good,” Mike groaned, breaking the kiss. “I like being touched there. It’s not for everyone, but I like it.” He reached up to tease one of Micky’s hardened nipples with the pad of his finger.

“Mmm.”

“You like that?”

“… yeah.”

“You did last night, too. Use your mouth, baby. It’ll get me hard.”

Micky leaned in to kiss Mike’s neck and trailed kisses down over his collarbone, while angling his hips to rub his cock against Mike’s. He could feel Mike starting to get hard and it gave him more confidence as he sucked and licked Mike’s nipples. He had hair growing around them and it felt strange on his tongue, but the way Mike hissed and moaned in pleasure was more than worth it.

But there something Micky hadn’t touched yet. He’d barely been brave enough to look at it. Mike’s penis. He didn’t know why he was having a hang-up about it. He had a dick of his own and it wasn’t anything mysterious. But this was … intimate. But he wanted to make Mike feel good. Wanted to get him so turned on that he’d want Micky to fuck him again.

 _Make me really want it_. Micky felt a rush of arousal. Prior to this all he’d ever done was ask other people to make it with him. Mike had been the only one to suggest it first. But for someone to really need it from him? Well, that’s something he’d sure like to experience. He hesitantly reached down and wrapped his fingers around Mike’s erection. It felt really weird holding another man’s dick. But he felt Mike shudder, and a low groan rumble in his chest, and knew that it felt as good for him as it did for Micky when Mike played with his cock. He got another idea … a bolder one. He wanted to do something without Mike suggesting it first. He left Mike’s nipples and kissed and licked down his skinny, hard body until his lips met the nest of dark curly hair at the base of Mike’s penis.

“Mmm … what you doin’ down there, huh?” Mike purred softly.

_Be brave, You Know. I mean … Micky. I like being Micky when I’m with this guy. I can do this. I can make him really want me._

He hesitantly licked the head of Mike’s cock and then opened his mouth and slowly took him in. He was rewarded by a deep, happy groan from Mike.

“Awwww, Micky. Yeah … shit … that’s good, baby. I didn’t think you would … oh, god … suck me …”

It felt weird, but it wasn’t so bad. Not at all. Especially with the delicious sounds Mike was making. And how hard he was in Micky’s mouth. He felt a little proud that he could turn this guy on. He felt Mike’s fingers tangling in his curls and heard soft instructions. “Suck a little harder … use your tongue … that’s so good, baby … oh, Micky …”

But a few minutes later, Mike tugged gently at Micky’s hair. “You gotta stop, baby. I’m gonna blow my load otherwise …”

Micky let Mike slip out of his mouth and licked his lips, looking questioningly at Mike. “But I wanna make you come, Mike. I wanna make you feel good.”

Mike looked fondly at Micky, his lips wet and swollen from sucking cock; his gaze soft and almost innocent. He gently touched the boy’s cheek. “You are too much, kid. You are the living end. You’re gonna make me come, don’t you worry, but you’re gonna do it while fucking me.”

Micky grinned. “Really? Oh, I really want that, Mike.”

“Figured you would. I want it, too.” Mike grinned as he reached for the jar of Vaseline again and handed it to Micky this time. “You know what to do. I want you to do me from behind this time. I think you’ll like it, too.” Mike rolled onto his stomach and hitched his hips up a bit. He had a really nice ass, Micky thought. Everything about Mike was really attractive. Micky slicked himself up and positioned himself on his knees behind Mike. It still seemed strange for him to be putting his dick inside a man’s ass, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt. And how he’d liked it when he made Mike come and he could feel the man’s orgasm as his muscles squeezed and rippled around Micky’s cock. He let out a soft groan at the recent memory and he pushed slowly into Mike again and listened to his lover’s contented groan.

“Oh, Mike,” he moaned, holding Mike’s hips and beginning to thrust. “Shit, it’s so good …”

“Hell yeah, baby. It’s real good. Oh … fuck me, Micky …”

Micky didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing Mike say that. Hell, of anyone saying that. _Fuck me. Fuck me, Micky_. He let out a hungry growl, but managed to hold himself back this time … from just letting himself go without thinking about how it was for his partner. But his thrusts grew faster and deeper as he felt Mike’s muscles give way. A little faster this time since they’d fucked the night before. Mike’s head hung forward and he groaned on every thrust, muttering obscenities and encouragement. The light gleamed off the chain at the back of his neck, his skin beginning to glisten slightly as they both began to work up a sweat.

Micky let his head tip back and moaned, feeling the pleasure bloom and spread through his body. His hips rolled and his licked his lips, panting, watching his cock sliding in and out of Mike’s firm ass. And then he saw Mike lift a hand and reach beneath himself, fisting his cock and beginning to jerk off, grunting with pleasure.

Micky frowned and reached down to bat at Mike’s hand. “No … lemme … I wanna …” he mumbled, wrapping his fingers around Mike’s erection and beginning to stroke him at the same speed. “I wanna make you come,” he said, almost sounding petulant. _Me, I wanna do it. Touching yourself isn’t fair._ He wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did. It was only his second time having sex, but already he wanted to be good enough to get off an experienced guy like Mike.

Mike let out a breathless chuckle. “All right, baby … you win … and it feels good … you feel real good, Micky …”

“Am I touching you right? Is that good?”

“You can squeeze me a little harder. Just a bit more … yeah … shit … keep that up …”

Jerking Mike off actually helped Micky from losing himself and coming too fast. It was something he had to focus on and he was glad he did because it was something else when Mike shuddered and moaned and then he let out a series of gasping, deep groans, his body quaking as he came all over Micky’s hand. And Micky didn’t even care. He was too happy that he’d brought Mike off before he’d blown his wad. He gripped Mike’s hips hard again and thrust hard and deep for a little while longer until he let out a cry, throwing his head back and releasing inside Mike. It was just as good the second time … no … it was better. Some people had tried to tell Micky that sex was overrated, but he knew they were damn liars. Or else they weren’t having the kind of good sex like he was having.

Micky slowly pulled out and fell back onto the bed with a happy groan. Mike made a similar sound and rolled onto his side, his eyes fluttering shut. Micky watched him and Mike stayed still with his eyes shut for so long that he wondered in the other man had fallen asleep immediately, but then Mike slowly opened his eyes and smiled crookedly at Micky.

“Well … shit.”

Micky laughed softly. “Yeah … that’s about right.”

Mike chuckled and let out a long sighing breath, stretching his long body and setting his head onto the pillow, looking placidly at Micky.

“So … you really dig it, huh?” Micky asked shyly.

“Dig what … getting fucked in the ass?” Mike smirked.

“Well … yeah! I just … was never able to imagine how that could feel good.”

“Mmm, baby, if it didn’t feel good, no one would ever wanna do it. And I like you well enough, but I ain’t gonna fake orgasms to make you feel good about yourself.” He laughed softly.

“Just got me a little curious is all,” Micky said.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “You sayin’ you want me to do you?”

Micky shrugged, making a face. “Not … not right now. But … maybe. I gotta think about it.”

“Well, don’t think too long, ’cuz I won’t be here forever.”

Micky nodded, then met Mike’s eyes. “I know. I … um … are you leaving today?”

Mike shrugged, also affecting nonchalance. “I dunno … I thought I might stick around for a few days. Maybe I can stay here if it ain’t crampin’ your style.”

Micky smiled, shaking his head. “Naw, man. It ain’t … crampin’ my style. Until last night I didn’t have a style to even cramp!”

“Well, just sayin’ that maybe your stock will go up when people hear you’ve knocked boots a few times.”

“Or I could just keep knocking boots with you,” Micky said. “You’re welcome to keep crashing here. I … it’s … it’s sorta nice having someone here.” _I … really like you_ , he wanted to say, but couldn’t get the words out.

“But I don’t accept charity and I ain’t a whore,” Mike said quickly, “… meaning, I like to fuck, but I don’t fuck for money or shelter or nothin’. So, maybe you’ll let me fix up a few things around this shack.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” Micky exclaimed.

Mike leveled an _are you kidding me_? expression at the boy. “Micky … there’s a gigantic _hole_ in your porch, directly in front of the door. How you haven’t fallen through that thing yet is beyond me …”

“I have, actually … a couple times …” Micky murmured.

“Jesus. Well, there you go. And, uh, well, I noticed a busted window in the back porch when I was coming back from the john. That’s not good, Micky. You gotta at least keep out the bad weather … and there are critters out there and you’ve got food sitting out in the kitchen.” _And you’re all alone here night after night_.

Micky nodded, blushing a bit. “Yeah … I … get a little worried about that sometimes. I can … hear things out there.”

“Right,” Mike said, slipping an arm around Micky and kissing his mouth. “So let’s get you fixed up. I was doin’ windows all day yesterday for Lainey and John. We can get some glass from there and —”

“Oh, but they need materials for their house,” Micky interrupted in protest. “They’re havin’ a baby. I don’t wanna take anything from them. They … need it more than I do.”

Mike shook his head ruefully and pressed a kiss to the top of Micky’s head. “You’re too sweet, kid. Way too sweet for this ol’ world.” Even as he said it, Mike wondered where this was coming from. Why he even cared. This wasn’t like him. One-night stands were his preferred mode, but here he was, basically moving in and playing house with a guy he hadn’t even known twenty-four hours ago.

But then Micky mumbled, “I’m not _that_ sweet …” in a sulky, put-out tone that was so undeniably adorable that Mike found himself laughing and cuddling the boy close. Kissing his mouth and his face until the pout was replaced by that sunny smile.

“Come on … let’s go to the kitchen and see about some food,” Mike said. “I got a feeling I’m gonna need to keep up my strength with the likes of you!”

“But then we’ll go back to bed, right?” said Micky happily, padding behind Mike as they entered the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m keeping you in that bed for at least the rest of today, mister. To be honest, I wanna see how long it takes for you to wear yourself out. But I fear I won’t have the stamina.”

“Oh, quit it! You talk like you’re an old man and I’m like … a sex fiend.”

“Hey, you said it, not me …” Mike chuckled.

“Knock it off!” Micky complained, but he was grinning, too, as he unwrapped a loaf of bread and picked up a knife to slice it. “How old are you, anyway?”

Mike shrugged. “I’ll be twenty-one come winter.”

“Well, I’m nineteen already! So you can quit it with the ‘oh, I’m a tired old man’ talk …” Micky’s voice shifted into a creaky squawk that really did sound like a funny old man and Mike was both amused and impressed.

“All right, all right,” he conceded. “You got a point. I guess I just feel a lot older than I am most of the time.” He opened a cupboard and saw a jar of peanut butter … and nothing else _. Peanut butter sandwiches it is. Got protein at least. God knows I need some with this kid climbing me like a tree._

“That’s why you oughta hang out in Violets for a while,” Micky said, handing Mike the knife so he could spread peanut butter on the bread slices. “It’ll make you feel and act your age again. The air force … that must have been heavy, man. Yikes.”

Mike smiled and it occurred to him that this entire operation was happening without them saying a word about it. Not that making a sandwich was a difficult endeavor, but the strange ease he felt with Micky left him a little puzzled.

They ate their sandwiches … well, more like Micky wolfed his down in ten seconds flat and talked at Mike while he ate more slowly. He was stingy on details about his life before meeting his friends, but had plenty to say about his pot-farming plans and his great future in Violets once he was able to harvest and grow more weed. It all sounded pretty pie in the sky to Mike, but it wasn’t his place to pass judgment on Micky’s life. Mike had his own plans. _But_ , he thought, looking around at the decrepit old house, _maybe I can get this place in a little better shape for the kid before I leave. Maybe … maybe someone will wanna live here and keep him company if they don’t feel like they’re going to end up falling through the floor or getting attacked by hungry animals._

They went back to bed and Mike expected Micky to be ready for another round, but instead the boy fell asleep in mere minutes. Mike smiled, furrowing his brow and taking the opportunity to really get a look at him. It had been dark when they’d properly met and when Micky was awake, he was moving and twitching all the time. Lord, he was really a pretty thing. His flat little pug nose sprinkled with freckles, and the wide arc of his mouth. The soft curls framing his face. He had a nice body and long legs, Mike sure liked the way his cock felt inside of him. He’d stolen a few glances at Micky’s naked little bum and had some definite ideas about what he’d like to do with it. But he’d let Micky make up his mind about that. Right now, Mike was happy enough to take a break from his travels and rest awhile with this fella.

* * *

He’d thought Micky would take a quick catnap, but the boy showed no signs of stirring after nearly an hour. Mike was bored and looking at Micky — as cute as he was — was only absorbing for so long. He could get dressed and go out into the town, but he didn’t want Micky thinking he’d taken off on him (there it was again … why did he really care what Micky thought about anything?). Shaking his head and letting out an annoyed puff of air from his nose, Mike sat up and reached for his guitar case. Micky seemed like a pretty deep sleeper, so as long as he played quietly, maybe it would be okay.

He strummed a chord, grimaced at the tuning and spent a while getting that sorted out. And then, when he was satisfied, he got to playing and almost immediately was transported to the happy place he went every time he picked up his guitar and played his favorite songs. Sometimes it was hard to find that place when he was trying to write songs, but today he just wanted to play stuff he loved and knew. He was in a good mood … he had to admit that being with Micky had been the best thing that had happened to him in a while.

_Stop it. You’re getting moony like a teenage girl. You barely know him. Cool it. Remember you got a plan. And wasting a lot of time in this dump of a town ain’t part of it. Getting hung up on a dopey kid like Micky ain’t part of it, either. But … you can stay a few days and enjoy yourself._

Having lectured himself to his satisfaction, Mike drifted back into playing softly.

* * *

Mike had no idea how much time had passed, but he heard a few sleepy sounds and saw Micky beginning to stir, his eyes slowly opening. Mike smiled and turned to face his young lover, beginning to strum familiar opening chords.

“Wake up, little Susie, wake up!” he sang, softly at first. “Wake up, little Susie, wake up!” Mike loved the Everly Brothers. They had it going on, and their tunes were among the first Mike set out to learn when he started playing guitar.

“We’ve both been sound asleep. Wake up, little Susie, and weep! The movie’s over, it’s four o’clock, and we’re in trouble deep!” he sang, a little louder as Micky woke up and started to giggle softly, pulling himself up into a sitting position. And then … to his complete astonishment, Micky not only joined in, but in a near pitch-perfect third above Mike, taking Phil Everly’s part, his voice strong and clear and true. “Wake up, little Susie! Wake up, little Susie!”

They grinned at each other and leaned in, singing: “Whatta we gonna tell your mama? Whatta we gonna tell your pa? Whatta we gonna tell our friends when they say, ‘Ooh-la-la’?”

Mike broke up laughing, gazing at Micky in disbelief. “You … that was … boy, you can _sing_!” _And is it just me, or do we sound great together?_

“Sure I can!” said Micky, grinning, blushing happily under Mike’s praise. “I can play guitar, too, but I’m pretty rusty. Had to hock my own when I was on the road to make some bread … before I met my friends here.”

“Well, I’ll be!” Mike exclaimed. “You’re just fulla surprises, ain’t you, baby?” He picked up the guitar and offered it to Micky. “You wanna play a little somethin’?”

Micky hesitated for a moment, then shrugged with a smile. “Yeah … okay. But, like I said … I’m real rusty. Lost my calluses and everything.”

“Just play me a song you really dig. Something that makes you happy.”

Micky settled the guitar in his lap (oh, there was something so nice about a beautiful naked boy playing a guitar). He strummed a few chords and flexed his fingers … and then launched right into “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry. “Deep down Louisiana close to New Orleans! Way back up in the woods among the evergreens … there stood a log cabin made of earth and wood, where lived a country boy named of Johnny B. Goode. Who never ever learned to read or write so well, but he could play the guitar like ringing a bell …”

Mike hooted and slapped his knee before joining Micky on the chorus, “Go, go! Go, Johnny go, GO!”

Encouraged, Micky clambered to his feet. Mike followed and they crowed the rest of the song together, naked as jaybirds, wiggling their hips, bouncing on the mattress, and throwing their heads back as they sang.

When it was over, Micky laughed, panting, grinning at Mike. “Wow … I haven’t played that in forever. Can’t believe I remembered all the chords and words. But it is my favorite song.” He carefully handed the guitar back to Mike and grimaced, shaking out his hands. “Ouch … I’ll be feeling that later.”

Mike laid the guitar in the case and lay back on the bed, reaching for Micky, who happily let himself be pulled into Mike’s embrace.

“Deep down Louisiana close to New Orleans …” Mike murmured thoughtfully. “Say, Micky … is that why you come to this state?”

“How d’ya know I’m not from here, huh?”

“Oh, come on, are you kidding me? Right, and I’m really from Boston! Can’t you hear it in my accent?” Mike cracked up.

“Yeah, it’s why I came here, I guess. I mean, it was a place to go. Things were getting kind of heavy at home and I had to split for a while.”

“Where’s home?”

Mick looked up at Mike, and said nothing. Mike nodded and touched the boy’s face gently. “It’s all right, man. You don’t gotta tell me. I suppose we’re all of us running away from something.”

“I’m not running anymore,” said Micky. “I like it here. People don’t hassle you.”

Mike furrowed his brow. “But … aren’t they? A bit?”

“Naw,” said Micky, shaking his head. “They’re my friends! They like giving me a hard time … it’s what friends do.”

“I suppose,” Mike said, but decided to leave that alone. Again, Micky’s problems were none of his business.

“I mean, whaddaya want with Los Angeles, anyway? It’s a crummy place full of crummy people,” Micky said sourly, looking down and fidgeting with the pillow slip.

Mike smirked. Micky was more transparent than one of the windows he’d been fixing up yesterday. “So …” he said, “you’re running away from the place I’m running to.”

Micky made a face. “That obvious, huh?”

Mike shrugged. “It’s all right, man. We all got our baggage. But I think it’s a real shame you’re not playing music. You play good and your singing is amazing.”

“I’m not as good at guitar as you.” Micky smirked.

Mike paused for a beat, then laughed. “Why you little … so you’re implying that you definitely think you’re a better singer than me?”

Micky giggled.

“Well … you’re goddamn right, is what you are!” said Mike, pouncing Micky and tickling him. “But I’m still gonna have to punish you, anyway!”

“Ah, no … Mike … MIKE!” Micky howled with laughter as Mike found his most ticklish spots and tormented him. “Oh … stop … Mike! Uncle … UNCLE!”

Mike took pity on the boy and stopped tickling … and started stroking him instead, leaning in to kiss his mouth.

Micky made a sound. “Oh, I like that a lot better …”

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

* * *

They were screwing again. Micky on top of Mike again. Mike was starting to feel a little sore, but at the same time, it felt so good as Micky rocked into him. The kid was getting better every time. They couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.

Micky gazed down at him, his lips slightly parted, breathing hard, but his gaze was steady, unlike the first time when he’d seemed to drift off into another place. He reached down and plucked up the long chain around Mike’s neck and took it between his teeth, grinning at him. Mike let out a laugh in spite of himself. There was something sweetly possessive about the gesture. And he liked it, even if he wasn’t sure why.

And then, suddenly, there were voices that weren’t theirs. “Whoah!”

“Oh! Oh, my … sorry!”

Micky and Mike both turned their heads sharply to see Jerry and Twila standing in the doorway, looking shocked, but also beginning to giggle with embarrassment. Micky’s jaw went slack, the chain falling back onto Mike’s bare chest.

“Well, uh … hullo there,” said Mike, smirking. “Can we help you?”

Micky tried to pull out, but Mike slipped an arm around his waist and held him in place, squeezing his cock with his muscles. Micky bit back a moan as Mike grabbed the edge of a blanket with his other hand and tossed it over Micky’s back to hide their mid-coital nakedness.

“Oh, we’re so sorry!” Twila said, giggling. “We didn’t mean to …”

“Well, we sorta did,” said Jerry. “You Know … we came by to check on you because we hadn’t seen you around and you’re always up to water your plant and …”

“… and …” Mike said, looking at them, still smiling, “even after what you heard?”

Micky had buried his head into Mike’s neck. “They thought I was jerking off,” he mumbled.

Jerry shrugged. Twila just smiled.

“Well, he ain’t!” said Mike, still friendly, but feeling a little defensive on behalf of Micky. “He’s been entertaining company … and well, at that!”

Jerry held up his hands. “Hey, man … no judgment here. Love is love.”

“Love is love,” Twila said softly.

The gentle tone of Twila’s voice got Micky to unbury his head and smile up at his friends.

“Hey, man,” Jerry said. “We just wanna make sure you were okay. You are … very okay.”

“Very okay!” Twila said, grinning.

“More than okay,” Mike purred.

Micky looked at them, then at Mike and nodded, smiling. “Very, very okay.”

“You Know … you want me to water your plant for you?” asked Twila.

“Oh, yeah, Twila. That would be so groovy. I meant to earlier … but …”

“It’ll be fine, You Know,” said Jerry. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Unless you wanna stay?” Mike asked, looking suggestively at the couple.

“Uh … what?” Jerry asked.

Twila smirked.

Mike shrugged. “Plenty of room in this bed. Micky’s plant can survive a bit longer.”

Twila bit her lip, smiling, but Jerry, not seeing her expression, let out an awkward chuckle and tugged at his girlfriend’s arm. “Thanks, man, but that’s not our scene. We’ll let you be.”

Micky, catching Twila’s expression, looked at Mike, shocked. Mike ignored it and said, “Hey, man … while you’re here. What do you cats do for a shower and a solid meal around here? I’m having a groovy time, but wouldn’t mind a good wash and something beyond a peanut butter sandwich.” He smiled at Micky. “Kept meaning to ask this one, but he’s kept me awfully busy …”

Micky blushed and laughed softly.

Twila laughed in return. Jerry grinned, still blushing a bit. “Come by Sandy’s place — the medical clinic — tonight. You Know can tell you when. It’s the only place in town with electricity and running water. You can take a shower and grab a meal. We do communal dinners every night for whoever wants to join. There’s always plenty to go around.”

“Groovy,” said Mike. He looked directly at Twila. “Sure you don’t wanna stick around?”

Jerry scowled slightly. Twila smirked at Mike. “No, you two go back to what you were doing. Maybe see you at dinner tonight?”

“Okay!” Micky called out weakly. “See you then!”

The couple left and Micky and Mike waited until the door closed and even then a few moments after until Mike burst out laughing. Micky groaned, grinning, burying his face into Mike’s neck again. “Mike … what the heck?”

Mike wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, their faces! And Micky … Twila was so into us. She wanted to stay. Shame … we coulda shown her a great time. Jerry, too. God, I could have taken care of him while you had fun with her.”

Micky laughed. “No … what … really?”

“Baby, I know. Twila … she ain’t suited to be a one-man girl. She’s into Jerry cuz he seems to be in charge, but she wants more. If she’d been on her own … lordy, we’d be having a time.”

“No,” Micky said softly, gazing at Mike, amazed.

“Oh yeah, Mick,” Mike said, touching his face. “I think her seeing you like this opened up a whole new thing.”

“But she’s Jerry’s girl …” Micky said.

“Twila is her own girl,” replied Mike. “Remember that. And they chose not to stay, so … what … you gonna keep fucking me or what?” He squeezed his muscles around Micky and grinned. “Dang, boy, you’re still hard even after all that …”

Micky grinned.

“Let’s finish what we started. Then let’s go for dinner and a shower. Clean up so we can get dirty again.”|

“Mike …” Micky sighed, thrusting into his lover again. “Mike … how …”

“Shhhh, ‘You Know’ …”

* * *

Finally, they’d reluctantly put their clothes on and Micky led the way to the Violets medical clinic, where a nurse named Sandy lived. A local doctor, Cal Woodall, visited several times a week to check on the health of the residents and, more often than not, dole out VD shots.

“Yeah, so Cal pays for electric and water because you need that for a doctor’s office,” Micky explained as they walked together. “So Sandy has a kitchen with a stove and everything, so we all do meals together in the evening. Which is groovy because I’m not much of a cook anyway.”

“So … does everyone here got a job?” Mike asked.

Micky shrugged. “Well, kinda. Not like straight jobs, of course. But we all pitch in. Sandy and some of the girls do a lot of the cooking and laundry. Wolfman makes these really groovy belts and sandals. We got other people who do carpentry work like you were doing for John and Lainey. And others look for ways to earn some bread so we can buy food and stuff. Collecting cans or making stuff to sell you … you know.”

“And what do you do?” Mike asked.

Micky shrugged again. “Oh, this and that. I fix stuff sometimes. One day I’ll be in charge of all the pot. But for now my job is mostly to go to Brandonville to pick up the mail from our general post office box.” He grinned. “I guess you could say I’m the postman!”

Mike chuckled. “You’re a weird cat, Micky. But I like it.”

“I … really dig you, Mike …” Micky said shyly.

Mike looked at him, surprised, but wasn’t able to reply because they’d come into view of the hippies, who started cheering and hooting at them.

“All right, You Know!”

“Whoooo … way to pop your cherry, baby!”

“Heard you two have been going at it for like … _days_ …”

“Man, Mike only got to town yesterday, man … don’t exaggerate …”

“Don’t hassle me, man!”

Micky blushed, grinning. Mike smirked. He knew what they looked like … messy hair and mouth-shaped bruises on their necks. Well-fucked was how they looked and that was nothing to be ashamed of.

And then Micky stepped forward, threw his arms open and yelled, “I GOT LAID!”

The group cheered.

Jessica gave them both the once-over. “So …” she said. “How was he?”

“Who, me or him?” said Mike.

Jessica smiled slyly. “Both.”

Mike grinned. “He’s incredible. … I’m spectacular.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” said Jessica. “You wanna come over and show me later?”

Mike felt Micky’s eyes on him, he glanced at the boy and saw a nervous look flash briefly over his face before he replaced it with a wide smile, pretending he hadn’t heard what Jessica said and moved in to chat with Bingo and Eddie.

Mike looked back at the girl. She looked like she’d be a hellcat in bed, and it would be a lot of fun. And it wasn’t like he was tied to Micky because they’d screwed a couple of times. Sure, he’d promised to fix up some things around the house in return for shelter and … he could still do that, but …

_“I … really dig you, Mike …”_

_I really dig you, too_ , Mike thought. Damn. He smiled at Jessica. “Appreciate the offer, but I got a date tonight.” He watched Micky out of the corner of his eye and saw the boy smile softly.

_I’m only here for a few days. Might as well spend ’em with someone I dig._

Jessica took the soft rejection in stride. “All right, lover boy,” she said. “But if you change your mind, my house is just down the road. And I make the best wine you’ll ever taste.”

“I will keep that in mind, darlin’,” Mike said, smiling.

“Mmmm,” said Jessica, shaking her head. “I do love the way darlin’ sounds coming out of that Texan mouth. I hope I can find out what else you can do with that mouth.”

“Brazen hussy,” Mike said with a wink before tipping an imaginary hat at Jessica and walking over to Micky. He slapped the boy on the rump. “C’mon, stinky. Let’s go wash behind our ears before supper.”

Micky led them up the steps into the clinic office. “You … you coulda gone with her, y’know. Jessica’s all right. I’ve heard she’s a good lay.”

“I know I coulda,” Mike said simply. “But I’m here for a good time, not a long time. And maybe I dig you, too.”

Micky glanced at him, grinning. “Maybe?”

“Maybe more than maybe.”

“Groovy,” Micky said softly. “That’s so groovy …”


	3. Fixin' a Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Mike become closer, and even begin to fall into a bit of a routine of life in Violets. But Mike's eventual departure casts a heavy pall. Especially as Mike starts realizing maybe he wants to leave Violets with more than memories. At the same time, he makes an intriguing proposition to Twila. Micky is having confusing feelings all his own that are turning his simple life increasingly upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life has gotten really busy again somehow and I'm not updating as frequently as I would like to, but I've got the final chapters mentally mapped out and I'm excited to get this new installment up today. Thank you again for the support on this fic. It's really become my pandemic hobby ;-)

* * *

After dinner, many of the group stayed to sit around a campfire and pass around a joint or three. Jerry looked around at the circle of people and his eyes landed on Mike the newcomer.

“Hey, Mike, man,” he said. “Could you see your way to getting your guitar and playing some music for us? I think that would be really groovy if you’re up to it. If you make it in LA we can say we knew you back when.”

Mike paused for a moment, parsing the tone for sarcasm or condescension, but Jerry sounded sincere enough. There was a general sound of consensus around the circle.

“Yeah, man, couldya? Do you know any Dylan tunes?”

“Aw, Dylan sounds like a drowning cat.”

“Oh, you just hassle on Bobby now ’cuz he went electric.”

“Whatever, man. I wanna hear some Byrds tunes.”

“Like the Dylan songs they sing?”

“Hardy-har, smart-ass.”

Micky looked at Mike, smiling. Part of him wanted to get Mike alone again to fool around some more, but the other part of him wanted to hear the Texan sing again. They’d had a lot of fun singing together earlier in the day, too.

Mike shrugged, nonchalant. “Well, sure. Yeah, if y’all want to hear a few songs. I’ll just run back to M…You Know’s pad and grab my guitar.”

“I’ll come back with you,” Micky said, standing up as Mike rose.

“Ah, it’s all right, man. I know the way.”

“Naw, I wanna. I, uh, wanted to get something I forgot.”

Mike furrowed his brow for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. We’ll be back in a few minutes, guys.”

As they walked away from the light of the fire into the darkness of the evening, Mike glanced at Micky. “What did you forget, Micky?”

Micky shrugged. “Just something.” He grinned flirtatiously at Mike, changing the subject. “You know you look pretty cute just out of the shower. Your hair gets real big. And I know a thing or two about big hair.”

“I look like a damn shaggy dog, is what I look like. I have some stuff in my bag to tame it a bit.”

“I like it wild,” Micky said.

Mike smirked. “Yeah, you made that plenty clear, boy. You like it real wild.”

Micky grinned.

When they stepped into the house, Micky shut the door, then turned to Mike and pulled him close, kissing him deeply. Mike was surprised but not unhappy by this turn of events and made a sound in the back of his throat, parting his lips to let Micky in. And then Micky was slowly pressing Mike up against the wall as he lowered himself onto his knees. Mike looked down, confused for a few moments, though Micky’s intentions couldn’t be more obvious.

“Micky …” he murmured.

Micky opened Mike’s belt and jeans and tugged down his pants and shorts enough to pull out his cock. He held Mike in his hand for a moment, stroking him a few times, then took him into his mouth.

Mike groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. He was soft, but he could feel the blood leaving his head as Micky licked and sucked him, his mouth so hot and wet.

“That’s good, baby …” he murmured. “Full of surprises, huh …” He gazed down at Micky, watching his mouth work over Mike’s hardening cock. He reached down and stroked a hand over Micky’s hair, his curls still slightly shower-damp and the sweet scent of shampoo wafted up into Mike’s nose. “Look at me,” he said softly.

Micky looked up and made eye contact, his bright brown eyes sparkling, Mike’s cock sliding smoothly between his lips with each long pull of his mouth.

“You gorgeous thing,” Mike murmured, touching Micky’s cheek. “You look so good when you’re sucking my dick … feels so good …”

He felt a pleasurable vibration as Micky hummed happily.

Mike let out a contented moan and leaned back against the wall again, letting his eyes close for a bit, just enjoying the sensations as Micky gave his second blow job ever.

* * *

Micky wasn’t sure what compelled him to follow Mike back to the house solely for the reason of going down on him once they were alone again. He’d never considered himself the possessive type — he was living in a commune, for heaven’s sake — but Mike had come to town and chosen Micky specifically. And it sounded like he wasn’t sticking around for a long time. Maybe if he were staying on in Violets Micky wouldn’t have felt that sharp stab of jealousy when Jessica made a pass at Mike. Wouldn’t feel like he needed to stake his claim … if the Texan with the elegant hands and wicked mouth was only here for a few days, then Micky wanted those days for himself. Making love and talking and laughing and singing. _I don’t ask for a whole lot, I don’t think. I’m pretty groovy about sharing everything with everyone. But not this. I just want this for me. I want him to be with me for the short time he’s here. Is that wrong?_

He’d been happy when Mike turned Jessica down. Happy to sit next to Mike at dinner and have all of his friends know that they were together. Micky knew that holding on to someone too tightly could drive them away, but again, was it so wrong for him to want to monopolize Mike’s time while he was in Violets? And Mike seemed to want to stay with Micky and be with him. Micky just wanted to surprise him the way he’d surprised Micky the previous night (was it only a night ago? It felt like so much longer. God, was he falling for this guy? No, no, no … bad idea).

He loved the feeling of Mike growing hard in his mouth as he sucked, stretching his lips more around his girth. He had a big, beautiful cock. Micky wondered what it would be like to have Mike inside him. He was thinking about it more and more, but he was nervous about how much it might hurt. Speaking of which, his jaw muscles were starting to get a little tired. He let Mike slip from his mouth and closed his hand around him, his saliva providing slick as he stroked Mike with his hand, giving his mouth a rest.

He heard a sound and saw Mike smiling down at him. “Mmm, baby, you took me by surprise. It feels wonderful, but you kickstarted a cold engine. I’m just getting real warmed up now. You can finish me off with your hand if your jaw is gettin’ too sore.”

Micky shook his head, smiling, feeling Mike tremble slightly as he stroked him harder and faster. “No, I wanna blow you. I like blowing you.” And he took Mike back into his mouth, and Mike moaned, stroking his hands over Micky’s curls.

“A little harder … yeah … Micky …”

He was getting close. He could feel his orgasm building and uncoiling slowly.

“Oh god, Micky … I’m gonna come, baby … make me come …”

He expected Micky to pull off, but he didn’t and Mike had a moment where he wondered if Micky understood his warning, but then his orgasm slammed into him and he let out a gasping groan, ejaculating into Micky’s mouth. Micky sucked and swallowed him down and it felt incredible. And then Mike sagged back against the wall, panting, looking down again at Micky, who was grimacing at what he had just tasted. Mike managed a ragged chuckle and offered Micky a hand to help him up.

“So … you just took your first load like a man. How was that?”

“Honestly?” Micky wiped his mouth, frowning. “Kinda … yuck.”

Mike laughed, pulling his jeans and shorts up. “Yeah, that’s about right. You get more used to it in time, but I don’t know how many people who suck dick really truly enjoy how it tastes just for the sake of it.”

“I liked the rest of it,” Micky said softly.

“Well, I sure did, too,” Mike replied, leaning in to brush a kiss over Micky’s mouth. “But … what was that all about? Because Jessica came on to me?”

Micky shrugged. “Do I gotta have a reason?” he said, but the lie sounded flimsy even to him.

“Baby, you can blow me whenever the mood strikes you. But I thought y’all weren’t much into possessions and all that.”

“You’re not a possession,” Micky said softly. “And I’m normally not the … not like that. If you lived here it would be different, but you’re not. And I just … want to be with you. While you’re here. If that’s okay. I can’t make you and I don’t wanna make you if you don’t, but —”

“Okay,” Mike said simply.

“Huh?”

“I said okay, Micky. Like I said … I dig you. And I ain’t here for long. If you ain’t sick of me yet, then I’ll be with you.”

Micky smiled happily. “I could never get sick of you.”

“Ha — you’ve only known me for about twenty-four hours, Micky. And we spent most of those screwing and sleeping.”

“I hope we spend more of them that way.”

“Damn right we will.” Mike smiled and touched Micky’s cheek gently. “Why don’t you go get a drink of water and I just wanna fix myself up a bit and grab my guitar.”

Micky nodded, kissed Mike briefly, and wandered into the kitchen. Mike lit a candle so he could see well enough in the room to find his bag. But then realized that it was too dark to fuss with his hair and … it was dark outside anyway, so fuck it. He grabbed his guitar and looked over to see Micky standing in the doorway, cradling a glass of water in his hand.

“I mean … do we gotta go back?” the boy whined softly. “Can’t we just … take our clothes off and go back to bed?”

Mike grinned. “Yeah, we gotta. Because I’m gonna sing. And you’re gonna sing with me.”

“What?”

Mike blew out the candle, took the glass from Micky and swigged the rest of the water down before grabbing the boy’s hand and squeezing it in his own. “You heard me. You got a natural talent, man. Sing with me. I think we sound really groovy together.”

Micky laughed softly, letting Mike hold his hand and tug him out the door. “Okay, Mike … okay. If you think I can do it …”

“I know you can, baby.”

* * *

Mike’s impromptu performance was a hit. He warmed up the group with a few popular songs everyone could sing along to, and then drew Micky in to do a couple more Everly Brothers songs since Micky seemed to be a natural at finding the harmony for those tunes. Mike found himself wondering about what else they could sing together. Wondering about what it would be like to have Micky sing with him on the original songs Mike was composing. Thoughts like that had been occurring to him all day since Micky surprised him with his beautiful, strong singing voice. And he was just as good singing for the group of kids. In fact, Mike saw a few of the girls eyeing Micky in a way that was miles off from the barely restrained exasperation he’d noted when he’d first met the boy named You Know the previous day. And suddenly he felt a small pang of jealousy that startled him. _Aw, it’s nothing. It’s just because Micky was talking about it back at his pad. And he should experience sex with girls, too. I know he still wants to. This is good — when I leave here he’ll probably have no trouble getting laid reguarly. Girls love a guy who can sing._

But when Micky and Mike returned to the house, they were both flying high off singing together and off the joints being passed around. They wordlessly yanked at each other’s clothes and fell onto the bed together, kissing deeply and pawing at each other. Mike spooned up behind Micky and reached around to stroke the boy’s erection while he began to rub his own up into the crack of Micky’s ass. Micky moaned and Mike panted, kissing Micky’s neck and shoulder, his hips rolling and thrusting. And then he pulled way for a moment, reaching for the Vaseline. Micky looked at him, a question forming on his lips.

“I ain’t gonna fuck you,” Mike said. “You’re still a virgin that way and it ain’t gonna go down like that. But you trust me, right?”

Micky nodded. Mike had rubbed some of the slick on his cock and spooned up behind Micky again, closing his slick hand around Micky’s cock as he began to thrust up against his ass again, groaning in satisfaction at the reduced friction.

“Does that feel okay?” Mike murmured into his ear.

“Uh-huh, it’s fine,” Micky replied, moaning as Mike squeezed him and stroked him a little harder. “Does it feel good for you?”

“Feels so good. But … fuck … I need more … flip over on your front, babe. I’ll take care of you after, I promise. But I fuckin’ need you right now … you make me crazy …”

Micky nodded and rolled into his stomach, utterly thrilled by Mike’s words and also a little nervous doing some things they hadn’t done before. What if Mike got too worked up and decided to fuck Micky anyway?

What if he sort of wanted Mike to fuck him, but he was still feeling pretty scared?

And then Mike was on top of him, bracing his weight on his forearms and sliding his cock along the crack of Micky’s ass. Mike kissed Micky’s neck and ear and groaned in pleasure.

Micky liked it. It wasn’t that it felt really pleasurable … but it certainly didn’t feel painful or uncomfortable and he just liked how turned on Mike was. He liked being a person who could make Mike sound like that. The girls all wanted him, but he was here with Micky. He was so hard and began thrust harder and faster.

“Oh, Micky,” he moaned. “Micky, babe …”

Micky tried rocking up against him and Mike let out a gasping groan of pleasure. And so Micky kept moving and it was almost like they were fucking for real. And suddenly Micky wanted it. He wanted to feel Mike inside him. To feel the way he felt when he was fucking Mike’s ass. He wanted Mike to come inside of him. He wanted Mike so bad.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered, rubbing his ass up against Mike’s cock, feeling the tip pressing against his hole. “I want you to fuck me … I want it, Mike …”

“Mmmm, boy, you are trying to kill me, aren’t you,” Mike groaned, still thrusting against him, but angling away from Micky’s hole. “I’ll fuck you … I’ll fuck your brains out if you let me, but that ain’t gonna be right now. You ain’t nearly ready for any of that and I’m too far gone to get you ready. But boy, did I love hearin’ you say that …” He nuzzled into Micky’s neck and bit his shoulder, causing Micky to moan. “Now keep rubbin’ that sweet little ass of yours against my dick. It feels so damn good. I’m gonna come all over you. And then I’m gonna suck your dick and swallow you right down. How does that sound?”

“Uh-huh,” Micky moaned, rocking back against Mike and then down to rub his erection against the mattress. “I want it … I want you, Mike …”

“Say that again.”

“I … I want you.”

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“Fuck me, Mike …” Micky moaned.

“Oh, that sounds so good, baby. Say it again.”

“Fuck me …”

“Again.”

“Fuck me.”

“Again!” Mike ordered sharply.

“Fuck me!” Micky cried out, feeling too close to coming himself and decreasing the friction on his cock because he wanted Mike’s mouth on him again. Like that first night … Mike on his knees after having barely made Micky’s acquaintance.

And then Mike let out a deep groan, his hips moving hard and fast and Micky felt the hot splashes of semen on his lower back and over his ass.

“Oh, Mike,” he moaned. “Mike …”

Breathing hard, Mike wordlessly nudged Micky onto his side and moved around to face him, sliding down the bed and smoothly taking Micky’s hard cock into his mouth, making a satisfied sound as he began to suck.

Micky tried to hold back. He really tried, but he was so incredibly aroused and had been on the verging of coming even before Mike began to suck him. It felt so good, and then Mike did a curious thing. He reached up for Micky’s ass and touched him with a slick finger. He rubbed around Micky’s hole in slow circles while Micky gasped at the sensations firing through nerve endings he didn’t even know he had. And when Mike applied light pressure to his hole, almost nearly slipping inside him as he swallowed Micky’s cock deep into his throat, Micky came with a sharp cry, fisting his hands into Mike’s hair, hearing Mike choke for a moment as he pulled back to catch the rest of Micky’s release in his mouth. Micky’s eyes rolled back into his head as the waves of pleasure washed over him, and gradually his grip loosened in Mike’s thick, damp hair and he went limp, gasping. He started to roll onto his back, but Mike stopped him.

“Hang on a sec, babe …” Mike, still panting for breath, fumbled beside the bed, grabbing a handkerchief he’d left there and reached around to clumsily wipe his own semen off Micky’s lower back and his ass before the boy rolled onto his back and smeared it into the sheets. Oh, they were making quite a mess with all this screwing around.

“Okay, you’re good,” he said after a few moments, figuring he’d done the best he could. Micky sighed and flopped onto his back.

“Wow,” he said softly, then turned his head to look at Mike. “You could have fucked me, you know. I would’ve let you.”

Mike gave a small smile and shook his head. “Micky, you gotta trust me, babe. You woulda been regretting that decision pretty fast and I would have been a real selfish jackass to take you up on it. Because I know better.”

There had been times he had behaved that way. Hooked up for an evening with a near stranger and taken exactly what he wanted. Within reason. He wasn’t about to force anyone to do anything, but there had been times when he probably could have been a bit more considerate of the other’s person’s needs and comfort level. Maybe a lot more.

But with Micky … they were far from strangers now. And Mike felt a certain responsibility in initiating Micky into the kind of sex they were having. The kind they would probably be having soon. But he wanted it to be good for Micky. It had started really mattering to Mike at some point in the past twenty-four hours. He wanted Micky to keep saying “wow.”

“There’s other fun stuff we can do on the way to gettin’ there,” he continued. “You seemed to like it when I touched you.”

Micky blushed a bit. “Yeah … that was weird. But it felt good. Especially when you were … y’know … sucking me.”

“We got time, babe,” Mike said softly, then yawned. “We sure fit a lot into the twenty-four hours or so since I got here.”

Micky laughed quietly. “Yeah … that’s pretty far out. It feels longer. Much longer.”

“Yeah. I feel the same.”

“You tired, Mike?”

“Mmm-hmmm. I’m gonna sleep now, okay?”

“’Kay. Me, too.”

“Okay.”

Mike rolled onto his side and softly kissed Micky good night on the mouth like a lover. Because that seemed to be what they’d become now. Lord help him.

* * *

The next day they actually got out of bed and Micky went to check on his plant and go about his usual business in the village while Mike went to see Lainey and John about some materials to fix Micky’s porch window, which was simultaneously the smaller yet more urgent task at hand. As he expected, the couple were more than happy to spare a small pane of glass that Mike had measured for earlier. He’d made sure to pack a measuring tape and some basic tools before beginning his cross-country trip, hoping to be able to trade on his handyman skills as a means of bartering for food and shelter wherever he could manage it.

Fixing Micky’s porch was going to be a bigger job, and Lainey and John referred Mike to Eddie and Bingo, who had the best handle on where to scavenge and source goods — in this case, decent lumber to fix the hole. Mike made arrangements for the pair to go on the hunt and bring back whatever they could find. He even gave them some money to sweeten the deal since, being an outsider, it was a task he didn’t feel equipped to handle, and had nothing else to trade that they needed. He didn’t mind, though. He’d saved up his earnings from the air force and was just trying to make it stretch for as long as he could. Given that Micky was housing him for free and he was getting fed on the regular, it was something he didn’t mind paying actual money for. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could trust those two to give him his money’s worth, but he didn’t have much choice. They seemed to like “You Know” and didn’t need much convincing to pitch in when Mike said it was to help out their friend.

Mike then returned to the house and made short work of replacing the shattered pane and replacing the wood moulding. He stood back and smiled proudly. There was something about working his hands that was immensely satisfying. Seeing a tangible result from physical effort. And the added swell of pride that he was able to do something to help Micky. He’d clearly heard the nervous concern in the boy’s voice as he fretted about the possibility of animals getting into his house while he was sleeping.

He stepped back a little more and looked around at the other clutter in the yard. What was all this stuff, anyway? A large, dirty canvas tarp caught his attention. Stepping forward, he carefully lifted up the edge, ready to bolt in case there were animals or insects nesting under it, but nothing flew out at him, so he eased it back farther, and gasped in amazement. He raised a hand to his face, blinking, then leaned in closer to inspect before letting out a low whistle and lowering the tarp again.

* * *

Mike was still puttering around in the yard and checking the durability of the other back windows when he heard Micky enter the house through the front door.

“Hey, Micky! Come out back a sec!” Mike called, excited that Micky was home, and that he could show him the repaired window … amongst other things.

Micky popped out the door and smiled at Mike. “Hey, man, how’s it goin’?”

“Check it out.” Mike pointed at the window.

Micky grinned, coming down the few steps into the yard. “Oh, wow, groovy, Mike! Thank you! It looks great. I … wow, yeah. Lainey and John didn’t mind?”

“’Course not,” Mike said. “They’re your friends, Micky. They want you to feel safe in your house. And I got Eddie and Bingo hopefully coming around with some wood tomorrow for the porch.”

Micky gazed Mike in wonder. “Again … wow. All I’ve done today is water my plant and catch up with some people. You’ve been busy!”

Mike shrugged. “I like being busy. I like fixin’ stuff around the house. But, um, Mick … I really gotta show you somethin’. I don’t know if you’ve seen it yet or not, but it looked like no one had peeked under that tarp for a long time, so …” Mike was nearly vibrating with excitement as he drew back the tarp and exposed several old motorcycles in various states of disrepair. “Look at these groovy old bikes, man!”

“Huh!” Micky moved next to Mike, nudging into his hip in a way that made Mike smile and slip an arm around the boy’s waist without even fully realizing he was doing it. “That’s far out! I never even looked under there before. They’re gorgeous old motorcycles, Mike.” Micky frowned and moved in to inspect them more closely. “Pretty busted, though. I’m guessing that’s why they got left behind.”

“Well, yeah,” said Mike. “But I think you got a bit of a goldmine here, Micky. You’re really lucky, man. I bet you could fix one of these babies up using parts from the others. Or even scavenging parts from the other stuff that’s been left behind.”

“Me?” said Micky, standing and smiling at Mike. “Well, yeah, sure, I guess. But what do I need a bike for?”

Mike shrugged. “Why not? I mean … they’re yours, man.”

“Mine? No, they’re not.”

Mike furrowed his brow and let out a laugh. “Well … of course they are. They’re on your property, Micky.”

It was Micky’s turn to laugh, but not unkindly. He grinned at Mike, brown eyes twinkling. “This isn’t my property, Mike. It’s just … where I crash. I don’t own anything. None of us do. I mean, I know Jerry has the general deed to the town, but none of us really _own_ anything here. We just use what we need and share what we have.” Micky shrugged. “I don’t _need_ a bike … but you do. Imagine being able to ride out on one of these instead of having to thumb rides all the way out to California.” Micky took a moment to envision Mike riding down the highway with the wind blowing through his dark hair. Wild and free and … beautiful.

Beautiful and … gone. But Micky reminded himself again that it was selfish to want Mike to stay in Violets when his destiny clearly lay elsewhere.

He came out of his brief reverie and saw Mike looking at him curiously. “Well, sure, Micky. What … what are you saying?”

“I’m saying finders-keepers, Mike. You found the bikes … you need the bikes … they’re yours. I’ll help you fix one up. We’ll figure out which one has the best chance of being restored and being able to find or fix the right parts and we’ll make you a bike for when you split town.”

Mike’s face softened and he blushed, looking down at his shoes. “Really, Micky … you’d do that for me?” Then he cocked his head to the side. “You know … about bikes?”

Micky grinned again. Mike always seemed so blown away by the simplest of gestures. Micky had been living communally for so long that he had nearly forgotten what it was like to live any other way. To not expect anything from anyone ever. To always be fending for oneself. All alone. “You don’t know everything about me yet, Mike. I’m not so hot with carpentry, but I’m good with machines. I’ve been keeping our vehicles running long after they should have ended up in the junkyard. I do it for my friends. And I’ll do it for you. I’d do it even if you weren’t fixing up my house.”

“I’m fixin’ up your house because you’re letting me crash here,” Mike said softly.

Micky rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “God, Mike, this running tally of ‘favors’ is getting to be a real drag, don’t you think?” He stepped up to Mike and slipped his arms loosely around his lover. “Can’t we just do things to help each other because we want to? Because we dig each other? And it’s the groovy thing to do?”

Mike cradled Micky’s face in his hands and smiled at him. “You keep surprising me, boy. It’s, uh … kinda sexy that you’re into bikes and machines.”

“Oh, yeah?” Micky purred playfully.

“Mmm-hmm,” Mike said, and dipped his head to kiss Micky softly.

“What if I told you that you definitely have a Triumph Thunderbird on your hands?” Micky murmured seductively against Mike’s lips.

“Oh, man …” Mike groaned.

“A 1952 … maybe even a ’50 …”

“Oh, you sweet talker, you …” Mike lowered his hands and tugged Micky back toward the house. “I got something you can do with your hands before we get into this business …”

Micky giggled and let Mike take him inside, propelling him into the bedroom. “Just my hands …?”

“For starters …”

* * *

The next day, Micky went into Brandonville on his weekly mail run. Mike cooled his heels at the house, playing guitar until he heard a vehicle noisily pull up out front, and Bingo and Eddie calling his name. Mike went outside and was pleased to see the two weird stoners had actually managed to source a good amount of decent-looking lumber. It wasn’t brand-new, of course, but it was free of rot and in good enough shape that Mike could achieve his goal of ripping out the whole damn porch out and replacing it, rather than figuring out a patch job on the hole that would not be as structurally sound, and potentially give out under Micky’s feet.

Bingo and Eddie half-heartedly helped out for a bit with the demolition before getting bored and begging off, claiming the sun was too hot for that kind of hard work. Mike didn’t mind — he liked Eddie and Bingo well enough, but trying to direct the pair was taking more time than just doing the work himself. He kept telling himself that he was just trying to make the old house safer for Micky. It was amazing he hadn’t hurt himself worse in the times he had mis-stepped and fallen into the hole.

_Trying to make it safe. Not because replacing the thing will take a bit longer and give me more time here. No, that’s not it at all …_

An idea had occurred to him the night after he and Micky sang together for the community. Just a glimmer of an idea. But it was getting bigger. And it was a scary idea. Nothing that he’d ever considered before, and he just needed a little time to sit with it. Decide if it was something he wanted to truly pursue or not.

So, sawing wood and hammering nails was a good outlet as he mused. He paused for a short break and a glass of water when a black dog bounded up to him. Mike grinned. He loved dogs. “Hey, fella, where’d you come from?” He cautiously held out a hand for the dog to sniff, then scratched it behind the ears as it panted and wagged its tail.

“I see you’ve met my friend Max,” said a voice, and Mike looked up to see Twila approach.

“Yeah. Is he your dog?” Mike squinted up at the willowy woman.

“He’s my friend. I don’t own him, and he doesn’t own me. He’ll stay with me until he decides he doesn’t want to anymore. But for now we travel together. He seems to dig Violets so far.”

Mike chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Dunno if I’ll ever get my head around the hang-up y’all have about owning stuff. I mean … it’s how the world works. You gotta own stuff. Stake your claim, dig?”

“That’s how _their_ world works,” Twila said dismissively. “That’s why we’re making our own world here.”

 _Yeah, a world that gets all its supplies and food and electricity and mail from the real world_ , Mike thought, but he didn’t want to get into an argument about it, so he just shrugged and gave Max a belly rub when the dog flopped happily to the ground.

“If you think we’re so silly, why do you keep hanging around?” Twila asked, seeming to read his mind. “Oh, wait. I know. I mean … You Know.” She smiled.

Mike shrugged again, also smiling. “Your world is a bit of a vacation for me … not a way of life,” he replied. “Y’all been super welcoming and I really appreciate it. And … yeah … I really dig You Know.”

“You two really groove together,” Twila said. “You sing so beautifully together, too …” her words trailed off as she seemed to finally register what Mike was doing. The ripped-out porch, the hammer and nails and pile of lumber.

“Don’t tell me you’re fixing up your pad, too?” said Twila, with an edge of exasperation to her tone that puzzled Mike.

He picked up his hammer and looked at her. “Well, first off, it’s M … You Know’s pad, not mine. And I’m just … like the Beatles say, ‘fixin’ a hole where the rain gets in.’ What’s wrong with that? That fool boy keeps fallin’ in when he gets high.”

Twila let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, I suppose that makes sense. I’m sorry, Mike. I just … things are changing around here and it’s bugging me. People getting all hung up on making things look pretty and nice and … makin’ bread.”

Mike shrugged. “You’re preaching to the wrong choir, honey. Just like owning stuff … I think makin’ a bit of bread is groovy. It’s what I plan to do when I leave here and head out to the coast to start a band. But I promised You Know I’d fix up a few things first as a trade for him letting me crash here.”

“You really think that’s the only reason he’s letting you stay here?” Twila scoffed. “Letting you share his bed? Making love together? Because you’re fixing his house?”

“Well … when you put it like that …” Mike muttered.

“I’m putting it how it is!” said Twila, irritated. “Why does everything have to have some kind of trade value attached to it? Why is everything about bread and not just about love?”

“That’s funny,” Mike said. “You sound just like You Know. He ain’t interested in any of that stuff, either. Maybe you two oughta take up together when I’m gone.”

Twila shrugged. “I wanted to take up with _both_ of you that day when I was there with Jerry. When you offered. You _were_ offering, right?”

“Sure was,” Mike said bluntly.

“We could now,” Twila said evenly, fixing her gaze on Mike.

Mike let out an amused snort. “I think you just implied I’m a capitalist pig, baby. Is that your idea of seduction?”

“You don’t seem like you’re a capitalist pig in bed, and that’s all I’m interested in from you,” said Twila.

Mike looked at her, then pressed his lips together, letting out a sigh.

“You don’t wanna do it without him, do you?”

Mike shook his head. “Darndest thing. I ain’t never been hung up on anyone before like this. I’ve always been the rambling type. But he’s … it’s different.”

“You really think you can leave him behind?” Twila asked.

Mike shrugged.

“You think you can get him to go to California with you.”

“Damn, woman, stop reading my mind. How do you do that?”

“It’s my blessing and curse,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to convince him or not. But I do know that he thinks I’m Jerry’s damn property and wouldn’t know what to do even if I did come on to him.”

Mike shrugged casually. “So, maybe you drop by one night. Jerry doesn’t have to know.”

“You offering because you want me to be You Know’s property instead? So you can leave with a clean conscience if he turns you down?”

Mike shook his head. “That day … after you two left, I told him that you’re your own girl. I saw that right away. And I dig that. You can ask him if you want … I really said that. If you wanna come over, it’s because I think we three could have some fun together. I dig Jerry n’all, but he seems a bit more … maybe a bit more square than you expected?” He was making a bold inference, but from recent group discussion over meals, he’d learned that Jerry was going all in on his candle-making business and Twila definitely seemed unhappy about the “improvements” being made in Violets.

She looked him, frowning, and shrugged in a way that said he had made a correct assumption.

“Anyway,” he continued, “You Know would still really like to make it with a woman, but he’s jumpy, and he also thinks that means giving me up.”

“People and their monogamy trips,” Twila sighed.

Mike shrugged and stood up, indicating he needed to get back to work. “It’s your choice, darlin’. But I won’t be stayin’ here that much longer once the porch is done. M-You Know is helping me fix up a bike and then I’m splitting. Maybe a few more days.”

“Let me think about it,” Twila said casually, turning to leave, Max at her heels.

Mike smirked and shook his head. “Woman, you are trouble.”

She tossed a flirty smile over her shoulder. “And don’t you forget it!”

* * *

Micky came home about an hour later and stood, agape, looking at Mike, who was busy repairing the porch frame before tackling the installation of the new boards.

“… Mike!” he exclaimed.

Mike looked up. “Huh? Oh … hey, Micky!”

“Hey yourself!” Micky said with a laugh. “Mike … I thought you were just fixing the hole! What is all this?”

“Aw, that damn hole was too big and raggedy to patch up safely. Once I knew I had enough wood it was honestly just easier to start from scratch. And then you’ll have a groovy new porch and no chance of falling in again!”

Micky gazed at Mike, taking in the sight of the Texan’s bare torso shining with perspiration, a blue bandana tied around his head to soak up the sweat and keep his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He was so sexy and so … unlike anyone else he knew in town. Mike was so different.

_He’s not one of us. He’s so … efficient._

The thought bothered him a bit. And why? Should he hold it against Mike for enjoying being busy and getting more done in a day than most anyone in Violets thought to do in a week? He didn’t get the impression that Mike was rushing in order to leave sooner. But maybe this was just how he was. This was a man who voluntarily enlisted in the air force. And man who was traveling solo across the United States with visions of stardom in LA. He was both unlike anyone Micky had ever met before … but also like some people he’d known back home before he’d taken off.

Mike saw a shadow pass over Micky’s expression, and he frowned. “Is … is this okay, Micky? I know it’s a lot … more than I said I’d do … but I swear I didn’t bite off more than I can chew. I’ll get this done probably in the next day or two. We’ll just have to use the back door until then. I just … wanted to do this for you … y’know?” He blinked at Micky, suddenly appearing a little vulnerable and unsure.

Which drove the shadow right off Micky’s face and his mood. God, Mike was something else. He shook his head and stepped forward. “No, Mike. It’s incredible. I don’t know what to say, except thank you. This is … more than … well … more than anyone’s ever done … just for me. It’s really cool.” He leaned forward over the frame and Mike smiled, leaning in as well and pressing a gentle kiss to Micky’s mouth.

“Sorry, I’m all sweaty and kinda smelly,” Mike said, grimacing. “I’m gonna grab a shower at Sandy’s before supper.”

“You look really sexy, actually,” Micky said, grinning. “Hey, look … all I did today was fetch some mail. How about I’ll go and take a better look at the bikes and see what needs to be done.”

Mike nodded, smiling. “Yeah, that would be groovy, Micky.” He shrugged. “If you want … I could help you wheel ’em out front and then we can work together out here. It’s more fun to have someone to hang out with and talk to.”

Micky nodded back, grinning, feeling a flush of warmth. “That’s a really good idea, Mike. But I can get them out here. You keep on doing your carpenter thing. It looks good on you.”

Mike watched Micky saunter around back, and wiped his face, trying to identify what he was feeling. It was a mix of contentedness and … sadness. Getting glimpses of a life he increasingly wanted, but he didn’t want it here. He still wanted it in California.

But he was becoming increasingly sure he wanted Micky in that life. And now, as Twila had guessed, Mike was facing a situation where he wasn’t figuring how to leave Micky … but how to leave _with_ Micky.

And he had no idea how he was going to pull that one off.


	4. Falling So Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Micky's relationship hits a new level. There are some rising tensions in the commune/town, and Mike's intensifying feelings are starting to really freak him out. And he's no closer to getting up the courage to ask Micky to come away with him to California, let alone admitting that he's fallen in love ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. I've had virtually no time to write for the past month, but things are easing up now and I'm so excited to be able to update this finally. Coming into the home stretch!

As the days stretched into a week and beyond, Mike realized he’d never been with someone as consistently as he had with Micky. Usually he was into one-nighters. When he was in the air force he’d had a few repeated flings with a couple of his fellow airmen, but even then those were stolen moments: fast blow jobs and frantic fucking in a supply closet … the thrill and terror of being caught. The opposite of the calm domesticity of his days with Micky, as Mike worked on the porch and Micky worked on the bike, and then the nights when they were alone together in a comfortable bed, no fear of being caught or punished. No noise except the chirping of crickets and their panting moans and cries as they found their pleasure together again and again.

Prior to all of this, Mike would have thought he’d get bored being with the same person, but Micky was still so eager and hungry and Mike couldn’t seem to get enough of being with him as a lover, and even just … as a friend. He _liked_ Micky. Even when Micky got all overexcited and talked a mile a minute, nearly spinning like a top. Talking pie in the sky about his pot empire pipe dream. Even then, Mike liked him. And the thought of convincing Micky to come with him to California hadn’t stopped nagging at him.

He’d gotten a bit more of Micky’s backstory, which turned out to not be nearly as dramatic as he’d let on. Mike had wondered and worried about abusive family or running from a terrible secret, but in the end, Micky had left home because his parents had been pressuring him to enrol in college.

“That’s it?” Mike had scoffed. “You ran away to live on a commune and grow illegal drugs because your folks wanted you to get some more education?”

Micky pouted. “It doesn’t sound so good when you put it that way …”

“Do they even know where you are? That you’re still alive? Land sakes, Micky … I don’t mean to pull a heavy trip on you, or sound like a total square, but if you’re making your momma cry with worry every day just because you didn’t feel like taking some courses … I swear …”

“They know I’m okay,” Micky huffed. “I’m not a monster, Mike! I didn’t want to do more school, even though I knew it could keep me out of the draft. And I didn’t want to get a straight job. And I didn’t want them to worry and get mad and just … get on my case so much. So I just … left. I needed to disappear and figure out my own life. But I send them postcards and they know they can write me at the general mail in Brandonville. I have to write once a week and if they don’t hear from me, they said they were gonna come here and look for me, so that’s my motivation.”

“And why you’re so keen on being in charge of the mail.”

“Exactly. Leave it to Eddie or one of those guys and they’ll forget to pick it up or send it out and then I’m sunk!” And Micky had pulled out a small stack of cards from a shoebox and shoved them at Mike. “See! Mom’s just fine. They wish I’d come home, but they know I’m doing okay.”

“Well, all right then,” Mike had said, thumbing through the cards, noting Micky’s mother’s elegant, looping cursive; and Micky's surname, Dolenz. He realized he hadn’t known Micky’s last name until now. Micky Dolenz. A very nice name. Satisfied, he handed the cards back to Micky.

Micky had looked mischievously up at him from under his lashes. “Did you really think I had some deep, dark past or big secret?”

“Yeah … I kinda did!”

Micky grinned. “Oh, good. That was another angle I was trying out to see if it would make chicks dig me more. Some of ’em like the mysterious, damaged guys.”

“You’re damaged, all right … in the head!” Mike threw a pillow at Micky.

“Hey!” Micky dodged, laughing. “I was trying anything I could! So … do I seem really boring now that you know the truth?”

“Micky … babe … you are many things, but boring ain’t one of ’em …”

“Mmmm. … hey, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“You know … that first night we met and you made a pass at me and I said I wasn’t into guys?”

Mike smirked. “I have some vague recollection.”

“I didn’t really mean that.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Yeah?”

Mike grinned. “Considering a few minutes later I had you coming in my mouth … a pretty strong clue that you weren’t so opposed to getting off with a fella.”

Micky blushed. “Yeah … well, I just wanted to say it. I’ve never said it out loud before. It’s not usually the kind of thing you really want getting around too much. I … thought maybe it might be a hassle here, but everyone’s been pretty cool.”

Pretty cool.

They couldn’t pretend they hadn’t heard the occasional comment, either muttered under someone’s breath, or said out loud for all to hear, phrased as a “joke.”

Micky and Mike’s “projects” had started to draw attention. Particularly the vintage Triumph motorcycle Micky was refurbishing. A lot of the men in Violets were definitely drawn to that, while many of the women would wander by to get a look at Mike laboring on the porch construction, usually shirtless and sweaty, his lean muscles flexing as he sawed and nailed boards to the frame. Sometimes coming on to him more aggressively than ever. It was as if Mike’s decision to just be with Micky had posed some kind of unspoken challenge, and if Mike had been less secure in his own identity and masculinity, he might have been more tempted to take one up on their offer if only to prove something.

But he didn’t need to prove anything to himself or anyone else and he took it all in stride. Accepting their compliments and double entendres and the odd cold drink and shoulder rub.

The motorcycle was the object of attraction for some of the men.

“She’s gonna be a beaut when she’s done,” said Eddie with a low, admiring whistle. “I hope you’ll let us all take a spin sometimes, You Know.”

“The bike’s not for me,” Micky said, his face smeared with streaks of grease, nimble fingers coaxing stiff joints into movement. “It’s going to be for Mike so he can ride to California.”

“What?” Wolfman exclaimed. “Are you nuts, You Know? You got this sweet bike and you’re just gonna give it away to your _boyfriend_ … so he can split town forever? Boy, are you dumb.”

“And who said it was yours to give away, huh?” Bingo argued. “It’s … it’s … on communal land! Everything in Violets belongs to us all!”

“Yeah!”

“Mike has you snowed, man …”

“Guys … hey …” Micky looked up in alarm, Wolfman’s insult still stinging. “Why are you hassling me about this? None of you even knew these old bikes existed. And Mike was the one who found them! There’s more than one … you can go ahead and fix one up yourself if you want one so bad!”

The guys shrugged and looked around awkwardly. None of them had the ability to do the kind of mechanical work that Micky could do, and they knew it. Micky knew it, too.

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly.

“… is there a problem here, fellas?” a soft voice drawled in a Texan accent.

Micky looked up at Mike, who’d overheard some of the comments and had crossed the yard from the porch, standing in front of the group, arms crossed over his lean, bare chest.

Wolfman shrugged defiantly. “Just sayin’ … how come you get to have the bike?”

“Because M … You Know offered to fix it up for me. He fixes a lot of things up around here. I’m fixing his house. I done helped y’all fix some other things around here, ain’t I?”

“Well, yeah … those windows are real groovy,” said John, embarrassed. “We had that bad rain a few days ago and not a drop got in!”

Mike leveled his gaze at Wolfman. “I thought y’all weren’t into possessions and owning stuff, man. Or is that all just bullshit after all? It’s only true until you think someone is getting something you think should be yours.”

“I didn’t say that,” Wolfman muttered, dropping his gaze.

“Then back off, man. And what You Know and I are to each other ain’t none of your business, either. You wanna call me his boyfriend, then fine. I don’t really care. What matters is what he thinks. I know I’m lucky enough to have met someone who’d do something this groovy for me. He’s building me a motorcycle. Because he can. Because he knows I got something real important to do and he wants to help me. And you’re here whining because you think he’s the one being selfish? Fuck off with that, man. That’s crap. This kid fixes your cars and manages the mail and is trying to grow pot for all of you. He does a lot. What the hell do you do to benefit the community, Wolfman? Everyone knows you’re setting up to sell your leather goods for profit to tourists.”

Micky slowly got to his feet, his mouth open in surprise at Mike’s diatribe.

“Yeah, no … you’re right. I’m sorry, Mike …” Wolfman demurred.

“Don’t apologize to me! You call _him_ dumb? You’re a goddamn moron.” Mike’s eyes flashed angrily, his hands clenched into fists.

Wolfman flushed with anger and humiliation, but he turned to Micky and met his gaze. “I’m sorry, You Know. That wasn’t cool. You’re not dumb. I’m just … I’m jealous, okay? That motorcycle is really outta sight.” He extended a hand to shake.

Micky shook his hand, smiling. Mike thought he was far too forgiving, but then again, that was his sweet Micky.

“It’s okay, Wolfman. I’ll look at the other bikes after I’m done with this one. Maybe I can fix up another and it will just belong to Violets.”

“That’s all I was sayin’,” Wolfman muttered, but shut up again when Mike glared at him.

Mike rolled his eyes and stomped back to the porch to take out his frustration on the boards and nails. Some days he never wanted the project to end so he could spend more time with Micky. And others he couldn’t wait to get away from this goddamned farce of a town. And take Micky away from it, as well.

_You’re too good for these people. You have no idea, Micky …_

* * *

When they weren’t working or eating or hanging out, they were in bed. It was the only real piece of furniture in the house so even when they weren’t sleeping or having sex, they were usually lounging on it while talking or playing cards or while Mike played his guitar and Micky reread the same dog-eared paperbacks over and over again.

But mostly they were in bed and they were naked.

“ _Thbbida_ , _thbbida_ , _thbbida_ ,” Micky was drumming his fingers on Mike’s bare chest again, imitating the sound of a snare roll, then the bass drum “ _tomp_ , _tomp_ , _tomp_ ” as he tapped Mike’s stomach, and then the “ _ching_ , _ching_ , _ching_ ” of the hi-hat cymbal as he tapped a fingertip on the small medal that hung around Mike’s neck.

“What’s that for?” Micky had asked the first time they’d been naked together and just relaxing, as opposed to sleeping or having wild sex for the umpteenth time.

“Oh … that? It’s a St. Christopher medal. He’s the patron saint of travelers. My momma gave it to me when I enlisted. Was meant to protect me.”

“I’d say it’s been working pretty well,” Micky remarked, then grinned. “Every time I notice it, I wanna tap it like it’s a tiny cymbal.” And he did just that. “ _Ching_!”

Mike laughed. “You’re a weird cat, Micky.”

And then Micky proceeded to act out drum parts on more of Mike’s parts and now it was just something he did to make Mike smile.

Except Mike noted that Micky’s rhythms were becoming more sophisticated and damned if the boy wasn’t keeping excellent time.

He gently caught Micky’s drumming fingers and squeezed them, causing Micky to look up at him.

“Micky … you ever thought about playing the drums?”

Micky grinned. “Oh, sure. I waged a campaign for it for a while, but Mom and Dad would not budge. Said I made more than enough noise without bringing a kit into the house. We compromised on the guitar.”

“I think you’re a groovy guitar player, but I think you got a knack for the drums. You keep real good time.”

“Aw, I’m just goofin’ around,” Micky scoffed.

“Nah, I mean it. You don’t see it … but I do.”

Micky smiled shyly. “Gee, thanks, Mike. That’s a nice thing to say.” And then he used his left hand to play a triumphant timpani line on Mike’s right nipple until Mike cracked up and rolled over and on top of his boy, kissing the sounds right out of him.

* * *

There was a lot of that. The intense sexual chemistry Mike and Micky shared was undeniable. After that second night — after Micky had naively begged Mike to fuck him — Mike began to introduce more anal play into their sexual explorations. He even accompanied Micky on one of his mail runs into Brandonville and visited the local pharmacy to buy some proper lubricant to make things a little more comfortable.

Like most people, Mike had always hated the process of buying anything … intimate … at a drugstore. He knew it was cliché, but always he ended up buying stuff he didn’t need, or even want, so he could bury the condoms or lubricant in the middle of packs of chewing gum, tissues, candy bars, and the latest issue of _Field and Stream_ (which he’d never read a day in his life, but his father was partial to it and it seemed like a respectable and dull sort of publication). He wasn’t sure what was worse … the suspicious glares of the pharmacist, or the come-hither looks of the young woman who’d been tailing him all around the store, trying to chat him up. Normally he’d enjoy that kind of attention, but he knew through Micky that the girl was the pharmacist’s daughter and he sure as heck wasn’t going to flirt with her when her daddy was glaring daggers at him just for breathing the same air in his precious store.

“Rita’s a knockout, but her brother … he’s real nasty. Horace, their dad, is even worse,” Micky had warned him on the drive into town. “Just try and get in there and get out quick, man.”

Mike made his way to the counter and set his armful of purchases down. “Afternoon, sir,” he said politely, laying on his accent extra thick to play up any good ol’ boy vibes that might make this transaction a tiny bit less painful.

Rita raised her eyebrows in a _what about me?_ expression. Mike nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

“Ma’am!” she exclaimed with a trill of laughter. “Ma’am? Daddy … that boy just called me ma’am! Of all things! How old do you think I am, huh?”

“Boy’s got manners,” Horace Talbot grumbled as he rang up the items and shoved them into a paper bag. Mike thought maybe he was in the clear until Talbot rang up the tube of K-Y jelly and his sour expression turned murderous. He shoved the tube into the bag so hard that his fist nearly came through the other side. “But he ain’t our kind, Rita. But I sure hope he’s got some money to pay for this … stuff.”

Mike bit back a sigh and plucked a crisp twenty-dollar bill from his shirt pocket. “He certainly does. You can inspect it to make sure it’s not a phony … sir.”

“Mmm, nothing phony about you,” Rita purred. “Who’s to say what _kind_ he is, Daddy?”

“Go and organize the magazines, Rita.”

“But I just did that!”

“Do it again!” Talbot waved the copies of _Life_ and _Ladies’ Home Journal_ at Rita. “He’s probably gone and messed ’em all up.” Then he peered at the titles and looked at Mike. “Ladies’ Home Journal?”

“For my sweet old granny,” Mike said primly, holding his hands behind his back. “I bought this all for her because I am a good boy, I am!”

“Smart-ass,” Talbot muttered under his breath, jabbing at the cash register with a finger. “That’ll be eight-ninety-five.”

Mike wisely kept his mouth shut and handed over the twenty.

The bell jangled above the door as Micky entered the drugstore.

“Got the mail!” he called.

“Well, hi there,” said Rita, who’d been half-heartedly poking at the magazine rack.

“Well, hi, yourself, Rita,” said Micky, eying her up and down until Mike cleared his throat loudly.

Micky glanced up at the counter. “Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Talbot. Lovely day we’re having!” He scurried away from Rita and stood very close to Mike as Talbot made change and slammed it down on the counter rather than handing it personally to Mike.

Mike shoved the bills and coins into his jeans pocket and took the bag Talbot thrust at him. “You have a nice day, sir. Ma’am.”

“Again with the ma’am!” Rita pouted.

“See ya!” Micky exclaimed with false cheer and hooked a finger into Mike’s belt loop. “Go, go, go!” he muttered under his breath, hustling Mike to the door as they made their escape.

But the trip proved itself worth the effort. And one night not long after, Mike made Micky wriggle like a worm on a hook as he fucked him slowly with two K-Y-coated fingers deep inside him, and Mike’s mouth on his cock, sucking him hungrily. Micky nearly fell off the mattress the first time Mike rubbed over his sweet spot. He was so responsive and open, and Mike loved the sound of the boy’s hungry cries as Mike sucked and fucked him closer to the edge. And then he pulled off Micky’s cock and fucked him deep and hard with his fingers, hitting his spot over and over again until Micky’s back arched and he came explosively, all over his chest and belly, crying out raggedly as Mike slowly eased off, feeling Micky clenching around his fingers.

“Oh my god,” Micky whimpered, shaking. “Oh my god …”

Mike grinned, gently withdrawing his fingers. “I take it you like that?” He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Micky’s quivering mouth.

“Uh … uh-huh …” Micky stammered, still gasping for breath.

“Hang tight, baby. I’ll be right back.”

Micky closed his eyes, his chest heaving.

Mike washed his hands and dipped a clean rag into a jar of water to wet it and wrung it out before bringing it back into the bedroom. First, he wiped Micky’s sweaty, flushed face with the cool, damp cloth and kissed his mouth before drawing the cloth down the boy’s body, wiping up his release.

“Thank you,” Micky whispered. “You’re … you’re awfully nice to me, Mike.”

Mike shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Micky shrugged in return, dropping his gaze.

“Some people around here ain’t all that nice to you sometimes. I’ve damn well seen it.”

“I guess. I know I talk too much, and I was always on the girls to let me make it with one of ’em. Any of ’em.”

“Eh, fuck ’em,” Mike sniffed, then grinned, aware of the pun he’d made.

Mick looked over at him and cracked up. “Oh, you think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”

“Not as funny as you, pal.” Mike smirked and put the cloth aside, lying down next to Micky. Micky’s hand drifted down and he teased his fingertips over Mike’s erection, pleased that Mike got so turned on in getting Micky off. Mike made a rich humming sound in the back of his throat.

“You need to come,” Micky murmured.

“Mmmm. I don’t _need_ to, but sure, it would be nice. No rush, though.”

“I think you should come inside me.”

Mike blinked. “Say what now?”

“You heard me.” Micky smiled, his eyes heavy-lidded, his voice low and lilting, still touching Mike’s cock with teasing fingers. “I want to feel you. I’m super mellow after that orgasm and you stretched me already. It’s perfect …”

“But you just came … you’re not ...”

“So what?” Micky shrugged. “You got somewhere else to be later? You think you’re not going to make me come again tonight?”

Mike let out a bark of surprised laughter and leaned in to kiss Micky’s mouth. “You … you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

Micky kissed him back, grinning. Then his expression shifted to something a little more vulnerable. “Just … go slow, okay?”

Mike nodded. “You can trust me, Micky.”

“I know. I’m just … a little scared.”

“First time is scary. Was for me, too. But it’ll be okay.”

Micky nodded with a small smile and lay back, watching as Mike picked up the lube and slicked himself up. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mike murmured back, moving between Micky’s legs and reaching down to touch him with slick fingers, stroking over his hole and dipping inside as he kissed Micky long and slow. Micky moaned softly into the kiss, letting his legs splay open, and then Mike was lining himself up and pressing himself inside very slowly. He was propped up on his arms, watching Micky’s face closely for signs of pain.

Micky stared up at him, his lips slightly parted, gasping as the head of Mike’s cock breached him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

“You okay, babe?” Mike murmured, brushing a kiss over Micky’s lips.

“Uh-huh. It’s … wow …”

Mike gave a crooked grin. “Yeah, that’s a good way to describe it.”

He took his time, inching forward, letting Micky adjust before moving in deeper. Micky was so hot and tight around him and it felt so incredibly good, but his desire to be gentle with the boy far outweighed any urge to let himself go and fuck Micky through the mattress.

And then he was fully inside and Mike let out a gasping groan. “Oh god, Micky …”

Micky smiled beatifically up at Mike, his almond-shaped eyes hooded, his gaze soft. “It’s like … we’re one,” he said.

Mike smiled. “What’s that now?” He stroked his hand over Micky’s cheek.

“We’re one. Connected. Together.”

“Oh, Micky,” Mike murmured, dipping his head to kiss him as he began to move, forcing himself to keep his movements slow and gentle, stroking in and out, listening to Micky’s soft moans and feeling the boy’s body moving in time with his.

Mike gazed down at Micky as they slowly rocked together and realized that they were truly making love. Not just as a euphemism, but this was what it was supposed to be like. Mike knew how to screw, how to ball, how to fuck, how to have sex, how to get laid … he’d never really made love before.

Micky’s eyes closed and his back arched as he let out a soft moan of pleasure, and Mike felt suddenly overcome.

_I think I love you._

_I’m falling in love with you._

_Oh, god … I love you._

It was too much. He couldn’t say it. He could barely think it. He groaned and buried his face in Micky’s neck and began to take him a little harder. A little deeper and a little less sweet. Micky moaned.

“Is this okay?” Mike whispered in his ear. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Micky sighed. “I like it, Mike. I want more. Please give me more.”

“You incredible thing … just incredible,” said Mike, and he was kissing Micky, swallowing his moans as Mike fucked him harder. Not too hard. He didn’t want to hurt Micky or ruin this first time for him … but making love … it was too much. He couldn’t handle it. Especially when he was pretty sure Micky didn’t feel the same way about him.

And so he fucked Micky. But nicely. After he’d worked him in a little, he put the boy’s long, skinny legs over his shoulders and sank so deep into him. Knowing he was the first.

_I want to be the only one. All mine. I love him. He’s mine … all mine. Fuck … stop it. Just stop._

“Oh, Micky,” he moaned, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m losing my mind … what’s happening to me …”

And he felt Micky touch his face, grounding him, urging Mike to open his eyes and look at him. “You’re okay, Mike,” he said softly. “You’re okay … it feels so good … so groovy …”

“Okay,” Mike panted. “Okay … yeah … oh, Micky, you feel amazing …”

“Fuck me,” Micky sighed with a dreamy smile, rolling his hips and squeezing Mike’s cock. “Fuck me, Mike … come inside me … I wanna feel what it’s like …”

Mike nodded, panting, and then he let himself go and came, groaning as the waves of pleasure washed over him and he felt Micky’s hands touching him, his lips soft on Mike’s face. Mike leaned back enough to let Micky’s legs down, but then he nuzzled into Micky’s neck, not ready to pull out yet.

Micky wrapped his arms around Mike and stroked his hair, both of them breathless.

“Wow.”

Mike grinned against Micky’s neck. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

* * *

Mike fucked Micky twice more during the night and into the dawn. The sun was just starting to come up as Micky rode atop Mike and the warm dawn light seemed to make him glow golden as he moaned in ecstasy, rising and falling on Mike’s cock. They were both exhausted, but couldn’t seem to get enough. Mike wrung a third and final orgasm out of his lover and then himself, and Micky collapsed next to him. Mike rolled onto his side and drew the blanket up over their heads to block out the encroaching sunlight.

“Pretend it’s still nighttime, babe,” he whispered as Micky snuggled up next to him.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Micky murmured, half-asleep already.

Mike was drifting off when the words slipped, half-garbled, from his lips. “…ehloveya …”

“Love youtoo …” Micky muttered back.

* * *

They slept well into the afternoon and when they finally woke, both of them would think the words were nothing more than a dream and neither of them would say a word about it to the other.

* * *

They were unusually quiet the next day. Something about the intensity of their lovemaking the previous night had left behind something that seemed impossible to put into words.

Micky had made himself a cup of instant coffee using a small camping stove, but Mike had declined a cup of his own. “I’m … I’m almost done with the bike,” he said softly.

“Yeah. It’s looking really great, Micky. Just waiting on that last part I ordered out of Brandonville. Should be in by the time you do your mail run.”

Micky nodded and pretended to look at his nails. “Yeah … I s’pose so.”

Mike was very quiet for a few moments, then said, “Listen, Micky … I was thinkin’ … when I go …”

Micky looked up. “Yeah, Mike?”

Mike looked at him and Micky was struck by the depth and feeling he could see in Mike’s dark hazel eyes. It sounded like he was on the verge of saying something heavy. But then Micky watched Mike’s gaze flicker and the moment was gone.

Mike shrugged. “Nothin’ … I don’t know what I was saying … still pretty tired, I guess. I’m … I’m gonna try and grab forty more winks. Giving you your sexual education is tuckering me the hell out.” He managed a crooked smile.

“How’m I doin’ so far, Teach?”

“I think you’re gonna ace the semester, baby. You’re a natural.”

Micky smiled in response, but the look in Mike’s eyes would stick with him for days after.

_What was he going to say? I don’t want him to go. Why can’t I tell him that?_


	5. In the Mood to Burn Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike attempts to reel some of his feelings back in through other distractions. But the tension continues to build and the explosion can't be avoided for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like at least once every 5-10 years I find myself in a mood to write some het-smut (but usually in a M/M/F threesome kind of way). Here is one such occasion, so you've been warned if you're not into that.
> 
> And this was meant to be the last chapter, but there is still more to come, so I'm splitting it into two pieces. Here be angst!

A few more days passed in the usual way. Except something felt vaguely off to Micky. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but ever since that long night — when Micky had let Mike inside him, and they’d made love all night until the sun rose, and Micky had felt sore inside for days after, but in such a good way — it was like Mike had pulled back somewhat. But it was hard to tell, since Mike played his cards close to his chest to begin with. Micky didn’t have any real experience with being intimate — physically _or_ emotionally — with people. With … relationships. Is this what they had now?

_No way. It was never meant to be like that. He’s leaving. We always knew that._

But he could no longer deny the stab of pain he felt in his chest every time he thought about Mike leaving. Knowing he’d never see him again. California would swallow him up. Or — less likely but not impossible — Micky would hear Mike on the radio and see the Texan’s handsome face on the cover of _Rolling Stone_ magazine. And Micky would remember how Mike had found him sitting in the dirt next to his plant. And changed his life with a wicked smile and a soft kiss.

He had no idea what to do with any of these big feelings or how to cope with this situation. What could he do? Mike was leaving. And Micky had his own plans.

He’d just come back from tending to his pot plant when he heard a high-pitched trill of laughter. Twila was leaning up against one of the new posts Mike had erected for the porch and Mike was talking to her, leaning in close. He had a look on his face … Micky knew that look. He was turned on. He was digging on Twila. And she was gazing back at him with the same intensity.

A twin dagger of jealousy scored a new wound in Micky’s chest, right next to the ever-widening wound from the idea of Mike leaving Violets. But Micky took a breath and forced himself to smile as he casually walked up to the pair.

“Hey, there!” he said brightly, squinting up at Twila and Mike.

Twila smiled at him in a way Micky had never seen before, her eyes hooded, and Mike looked at him exactly the same way, but in a way he had seen before. Mike licked his lips slowly. “Hey, baby,” he said softly, his voice roughened with arousal. Micky blinked, looking at both of them, confused by what he’d walked into.

“Well, I should get going,” said Twila, smirking. She swung off the porch and touched Micky on the shoulder as she wandered away. “I might see you two later!”

“You better!” Mike called out.

Micky looked up at Mike, brow furrowed. “Mike … what’s going on?”

“Maybe nothin’, but maybe somethin’,” Mike said enigmatically, jumping off the porch to slip his arms around Micky, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “You’ll just have to wait and see. But you trust me, right?”

Micky nodded. “You know I do.”

Mike smiled, kissing him again, and said nothing more about it. Micky was confused, but reassured by Mike’s affection. He did trust him. Probably more than anyone else he knew in Violets. How strange, given how short a time they’d known each other.

* * *

That evening, Micky lounged on the bed, picking at Mike’s guitar. He was playing more and more lately and would be sad when the instrument left with Mike. _I should save up and get my own. Or … maybe some drums._

Micky smirked to himself. A drummer without a band? Ridiculous.

Mike was trying to read a magazine, but he was fidgeting, and Micky hadn’t seen him turn a page in at least twenty minutes. He seemed keyed up for some reason. Maybe it was to do with the mysterious talk he’d had with Twila that afternoon?

Micky stopped playing and was about to ask Mike to just spill the beans already when he heard the front door open. Mike sat up to attention and put the magazine aside. Micky looked at him, confused, and Mike winked at him.

Twila came around the corner and stood in the doorway to their bedroom. “Good evening.”

Mike got up and slowly moved over to her. “Well, hello. Nice of you to join us.”

Micky carefully laid Mike’s guitar in its case. Twila gently touched Mike’s bare chest, drawing soft fingertips over his skin.

Mike leaned in and kissed Twila, long and slow. Micky blinked. He could almost feel the kiss on his own mouth, he could recognize the kind of kiss it was _. Is that what it looks like when he kisses me like that? Wow. And what the hell is happening?_

The kiss broke and both Mike and Twila turned to look at Micky, smiling. Mike reached out his hand. “C’mere, Micky …”

Micky slowly stood up and crossed the room, tentatively reaching for Mike’s hand without even realizing it. Needing the grounding touch and a sense of reassurance.

“Micky,” Twila said softly. “Is that your real name?”

Micky nodded. “Yeah. But only Mike has been calling me that.”

“I think it’s a very nice name. May I call you Micky as well?”

Micky nodded. “Okay.”

Twila looked into Micky’s eyes, almost as if really seeing him for the first time. She slowly reached out and touched his face, his hair, then tracing the strong line of his jaw. Micky stood still, nervous, but not the way he’d been when he first met Mike. It helped that Mike was standing right there, watching Twila discover Micky the way he had. A small smile played over his mouth.

“You really are a beautiful person,” Twila said softly. “Such a sweet aura about you. I’m sorry I never let myself really see that before.”

Micky blushed, looking down.

“Kiss her, Micky,” Mike said softly.

Micky looked up slowly, meeting Twila’s gaze. She smiled and nodded.

And so Micky kissed Twila. He’d kissed girls before, but not in a situation like this. Twila’s mouth was warm and soft, much softer than Mike’s. Micky realized he’d gotten very used to kissing Mike at the beginning and ending of the days, when his stubble would be coming in and he’d gotten used to the scratchiness. But none of that now. Soft, so soft. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mike dip his head to kiss Twila’s neck and she made a soft noise against Micky’s mouth. And then Mike was unbuttoning her blouse and she was letting him, and it really hit Micky as to what was going to happen. He broke the kiss gently and looked at Mike and Twila.

They both smiled at him.

“Only if you want to,” Mike said, almost seeming to read Micky’s mind, which made him feel another huge swell of feeling for the Texan. Micky liked Twila. She’d always been kind to him, and she was very pretty and … very willing. “We thought it would be a groovy experience.”

“All … three of us?” he asked hesitantly.

Mike shrugged. “I can just watch if you want. I’d be fine with that. Mmm … more than fine.”

Twila smiled, reaching for Micky’s hand and squeezing it gently. “It can be whatever we want it to be … Micky,” she said. “Just for tonight. I wanted … that day Jerry and I … interrupted you … I wanted to stay. But Jerry didn’t. So I’m back on my own. I’m not sure I’m cut out to be someone’s old lady. I just want to have a good time with you both. Let’s have some fun …”

Twila opened her blouse, revealing her small, lovely breasts. She took Micky’s hand and placed it over one, letting him feel the soft skin and hardening nipple under his palm.

Micky sucked in a breath at the sensation that made him even harder than he was already. Finally, he nodded, lowering his hand from Twila’s breast to take her hand, and reaching other hand for Mike’s once more — gently tugging them both toward the bed with him.

“Gosh, I hope you two know what you’re doing, because I sure don’t …”

Mike grinned, and Twila laughed softly.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll take real good care of you,” said Mike.

“Of each other,” Twila added.

* * *

“Y’all right, Micky?” Mike murmured sleepily. It was later … much later. Twila had left and they were alone again.

“Yeah,” Micky said softly, dazed. “I’m … wow. That was …”

“That was something, huh? You were amazing.”

“Yeah? I just … yeah …”

Mike smiled and rubbed his hand over Micky’s arm. “It’s a lot to take in, I guess? But yeah, you were incredible.”

“You think that Twi had … a good time?”

Mike chuckled. “You have to ask? I think she made it pretty clear.”

Micky blushed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just … why, Mike?”

Mike yawned. “Huh? Why what, Micky? Why did she come over? I invited her.”

“You did?”

Mike was drifting away. “Mmm-hmm … she said wanted to come and play and I said she should come by some night, and today she said she wanted to come by. I mean … you were okay with it, right?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” Micky said. “She’s great … she’s … really great. I just …”

He heard a soft snore and Mike was down for the count. Micky was exhausted, too, but his head was in a whirl. Apparently Mike had known ahead of time that this was a possibility and was ready for it.

_Or maybe he’s done this kind of thing before. What am I talking about? Of course he has. He seemed so … comfortable with it._

Micky knew he should be thrilled by getting to go to bed with two really beautiful people who wanted to make it with him. And he was … but he also felt a little strange. Like it was part of Mike’s way of pulling away from him. Mike would be leaving soon and it was almost like he … wanted to set Micky up properly before he left. _Me, his project. The poor loser virgin who’s now been fucked every which way and now he can leave and not feel bad about it._

Micky shook his head, irritated with himself _. Stop it. What’s the matter with you? You just got to do something lots of people only get to fantasize about it. It was great. And of course Mike is leaving. That was always the plan. And Twila did want to make it with us that day when she was there with Jerry. Stop overthinking this. It’s stupid._

He let out a long breath and turned his brain in another direction. Remembering the night.

Moving pictures in his head. Hands and mouths and sometimes laughter as three people tried to touch each other in different places at the same time and sometimes someone got an elbow in their stomach or a mouthful of hair. But that realness made it even more … amazing.

Micky had been a little shy at first, which seemed to endear him to Twila even more. Both her and Mike quickly took charge of the situation and Micky hadn’t minded. Kind of liked it as they gently directed him. Knowing he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do, but having Mike in his life hadn’t dampened his attraction to women, and when Twila stretched out on the bed, naked and beautiful, and asked them to touch her and kiss her, Mike and Micky had been all too happy to comply.

Mike had his hand between her legs and was touching her, making her moan, and then he raised his hand up and sucked on a finger, grinning and offering his hand to Micky. “Take a taste, baby.”

Their eyes had met, and Micky sucked one of Mike’s long fingers into his mouth. Twila let out a gasping breath. Later, she’d tell them that she’d had threesomes before, but either with a guy and another girl; or two guys who wanted to share her, but were too macho and inhibited to be comfortable being naked around each other in a sexual situation, let alone touching each other even accidentally during the experience, and the fantasy went up in puff of smoke. Never before had she been with two men who wanted to be with each other as much — or even more — as they wanted to be with her. And how turned on she’d been watching Mike and Micky touch and kiss each other … and more.

“You wanna go down on her?” Mike asked softly.

Micky nodded, but looked up at Mike silently. _I’ve never done it before …_

Mike directed his attention to Twila, who watched the exchange with smiling patience. “So, this fella here … he’s pretty dynamite with his mouth. But you’ll need to give him a bit of direction. Both of us don’t mind bein’ told how to please you, Twila. Tell us what you want.”

Twila got up on her elbows, grinning. “You two are … something else,” she said. “Can’t remember the last time a guy really asked me what _I_ wanted in bed.”

Mike pretended to buff his nails on his bare chest and made a superior face. “That’s because we ain’t like other ‘guys.’” Then he let out a laugh and they all laughed, which cut the tension a bit.

Even Twila blushed a bit. “I’d love it if you went down on me, Micky. It really turns me on before I screw someone.”

Micky, always game, went down between her legs and listened to when Twila told him what felt good and how to lick and touch her and soon she didn’t need to say anything else. Soon she couldn’t say anything else because she was sucking Mike’s cock.

Micky made her come with his fingers and mouth, and her gasping cries made him feel very proud of himself. Mike beamed with pride, as well. “Atta boy,” he said, shifting down on the bed to kiss Micky and taste her off his lips and mouth. Then Mike murmured in his ear, “You can fuck her now. She probably won’t be able to come again for little bit, so don’t worry if you wanna come before she does. I’ll finish her off. Woman like this … needs two men to get the job done right.”

Micky had just nodded, dazed, as he moved between Twila’s legs once more. He was so hard and ready and a little nervous, but she smiled at him and nodded. “C’mon, Micky … I want you …”

“Oh, you sure, do,” Mike murmured, kissing her neck, one hand playing with his cock while the other fondled her breasts, occasionally leaning over to lick and suck at her nipples. “I let him fuck me the first night I got here and it was outta sight, babe.”

Twila let out a shuddering moan as Micky sank into her. “I … I wanna watch you two … later … I wanna see you together … please …”

And it was good. She felt so good and every so often Mike would catch Micky’s mouth in a kiss when he thrust into Twila and Mike seemed to enjoy watching them together as much anything else that was going on, letting out soft groans as he played with his cock and growled words of encouragement. “Oh, that’s hot, baby. Yeah … does his cock feel good, Twila? Feels so good inside me. Do it, Micky … do it …”

And then Micky felt his orgasm approaching and he gasped, “I’m gonna come … Twila …”

“Tell him where, sweetheart,” Mike murmured softly to Twila.

“Not inside me, Micky,” Twila gasped. “Just on my stomach, okay …”

“Pull out and finish yourself off,” Mike said to Micky. “C’mon, Micky … I wanna watch you …”

Micky pulled out with a gasp, and it only took a few strokes of his hand before he let out a cry and came over Twila’s stomach and breasts.

“Oh shit,” Mike groaned. “Oh, baby … that’s gorgeous …” He leaned over and licked some of Micky’s release off of Twila’s body, which caused her to moan.

“Mike … oh, baby … please …”

Mike shifted down and embraced Micky for a few moments, kissing him softy, licking into his mouth. “You were beautiful, baby … just beautiful … take a rest and let me have a turn …”

Micky collapsed next to Twila, who smiled, and turned her head to kiss him, and then she moaned into Micky’s mouth as Mike entered her and began to take her in long, deep strokes.

Micky had worried maybe he’d have trouble sharing Mike … his Mike. Because at some point he’d started thinking of the Texan in that way … even though he knew he shouldn’t. Because it was clear that Mike didn’t belong to anyone. Just the way Twila didn’t. But he’d told Micky that he’d never been with anyone … and as many times in a row … as he had with Micky.

But he didn’t feel jealous watching Mike screwing Twila. It was kind of beautiful to watch, really. And Mike would look at him and smile and lean in for a kiss, and then kissing them both. Micky lay on his side, touching Twila and kissing her neck and breasts and listening to all of their sounds of pleasure.

Mike was up on his knees, still thrusting into her, rubbing his thumb in sure circles over her clit and then Twila was coming again, crying out in ecstasy and Micky gasped, watching both of them. And then, a few minutes later, Mike pulled out and came with a deep groan, coming on Twila’s stomach, and then he let out a satisfied rumble and lay down on her other side, the two men bookending Twila and the only sounds were of gasping breaths.

Twila rubbed her hands over her face. “Oh my god … you guys … that was … far out.”

“Mmmmm,” Mike murmured, nuzzling her ear. “I told ya we were good.”

Micky shook his head and disbelief and chuckled.

“Mmmm, Micky, babe,” Mike mumbled. “We made quite a mess on our girl here. I’m all jelly at the moment, but maybe you could get her something to clean up with a bit. Be hospitable. If you don’t mind …”

Micky nodded and stumbled off into the kitchen, which was low-lit by the full moon. He brought a damp washcloth and a large glass of water, which they all shared, and Mike drew the cloth over Twila’s torso, cleaning away the semen.

“So considerate,” she said with a chuckle. “You two really are something else.”

Micky lit a joint and they shared that in comfortable silence for a little while, getting their breath and energy back.

Finally, Twila sat up and smoothed her hands over her fluffy blonde hair. “I meant it when I said it earlier … I wanna see you two … be together. If you’re in that groove. I’ve never met two men who … are as into each other as you are … and who would let a girl be with them.” She let out an embarrassed laugh, running hand over her face. “Most guys I’ve met who are really into guys … they don’t have a damn bit of interest in someone like me. But you two … you both watched each other with me … now I wanna watch you two. If that’s okay.”

Mike smiled and stretched out luxuriously, scratching his chest. “I think Mick’s probably up for another round. You wanna do me, baby? You haven’t had me yet … today.”

Twila giggled behind her hand. As worldly a front she put forth, even this situation was clearly new to her.

Micky shook his head, grinning as he sat up as well. Twila’s reaction somehow made him feel a bit more on top of things. Until now he’d been the inexperienced one, but now here was something he felt more confident about. And Twila had even — briefly — seen him screwing Mike before. He felt a little proud that the sight had turned her on and had her wanting to see more.

And so they did. Mike was still a bit too soon off his last orgasm to get hard right away, but he moaned happily as Micky touched him and stroked his fingers inside him, and Micky was hard again. So hard … ready to lay claim to Mike again. Twila was just visiting, and Mike was still his … for a little while longer, anyway.

Mike let out a long moan as Micky pushed inside him and Twila made a soft sound, lying alongside Mike and nuzzling and kissing him and touching his body the way he had when Micky had been having sex with her. She reached for his cock, but Mike gently pushed her hand away and looked at her, his eyes hooded and sly, grunting softly each time Micky thrust into him.

“… you got one more in ya, girl?”

“Are you for real, man?”

“Sit on my face and find out.”

Twila looked up at Micky and they both let out a surprised laugh, even in spite of what they were currently doing at the moment.

And Twila carefully straddled Mike’s head and lowered herself onto his mouth and let out a gasp as Mike’s mouth and tongue made contact.

She looked at Micky and he gazed back at her, both of them equally astonished as they took their pleasure from the extraordinary man beneath them.

Twila came first, burying her face in her hands for lack of anything else to grab on to, her thighs shaking as she orgasmed against Mike’s mouth. She managed enough finesse to get her leg back over without kneeing Mike in the face before collapsing on the mattress.

With his focus no longer divided, Mike groaned to Micky, “Do me right, Micky. You know what I like … please …”

Mike hitched his legs up and Twila watched dazed, as Micky took him hard and deep, kissing his neck and mouth, licking and biting him as Mike moaned and pleaded for more. Micky reached down to stroke his cock until Mike let out a shuddering cry and came, bucking up against Micky and then Micky let himself go, coming into Mike, his head tipping back as the pleasure washed over him. And then he slowly pulled out and they both collapsed to the bed, all three of them panting for breath.

“Far out,” Twila murmured.

Mike and Micky just grinned, unable to speak.

After that, Twila had excused herself to wash her face and then she was getting dressed and ready to be on her way.

Micky couldn’t help but ask. “Twi … what … what about Jerry?”

“What about him?” Twila said, shrugging. “Pretty sure he’s been off screwing Caroline tonight. He tells me he’s got a weekly ‘meeting’ with some of the guys about town stuff, but who’s he kidding? He’s gonna come back stinking like pussy like usual … and me?” She smirked. “I’m gonna stink like something else. But he won’t dare say a thing. It’s ridiculous … I’d be fine if he’d just own up and tell me he wanted to be with other people. And the most ridiculous thing is that I’m pretty sure he’s on the verge of asking me to marry him.”

Mike grimaced. “Oh, no.”

Twila shook her head. “Like I said, Mike … Violets is changing. It’s becoming the place we ran away from.”

“Aw, c’mon, that’s not true!” Micky exclaimed.

Twila looked sadly at him. “Maybe you don’t see it now. But you will … You Know.”

Micky frowned.

“For now it’s better if I don’t call you Micky when I see you around,” Twila said. “Until I figure out what I’m gonna do.”

“… what does that mean?” Micky asked.

Mike nudged him and shook his head, _no_.

Twila smiled. “It was a really groovy night, guys. Thank you. I really needed that. It was fun … but it also got some things clear in my head. Get some sleep, okay? See you around.”

Mike and Micky barely had a chance to wave before Twila swept out the back door. They heard a low bark and realized that Max had come to meet her.

“Guess we didn’t have to offer her a walk home,” said Micky.

Mike let out low chuckle. “Like I said, Mick … Twila is her own girl.”

* * *

And there they were. Mike was fast asleep and Micky was finally ready to sleep, too. What a wild night. But what did Twila mean about Violets changing so much? And why did it sound like she was on the verge of leaving … just like Mike?

* * *

When Micky woke the next morning, the memories of the previous night hit him hard and he felt a mix of embarrassment and wonder. But then Mike was murmuring “good morning,” and pulling Micky into his arms and kissing him. And Mike made love to him, Micky gasping, clutching at Mike’s slender waist as the Texan thrust into him over and over again, his lips hot against Micky’s neck, tongue tracing the thumping pulse there. It was like a reassurance. _It’s still us._

Or maybe it was the first of many goodbyes.

* * *

Later that morning, Mike finally finished building the porch. Right as Micky was putting the finishing touches on the motorcycle. They couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if they’d tried. Mike wiped his face and stood back to admire his work. It was a solid piece of construction … to the point where the new porch stuck out from the old house like a sore thumb. Mike smirked. _Jeez. Shoulda just put up some walls around the porch and knocked the rest of that shack down_.

And then he heard an admiring whistle. “Wow, Mike! You did such a groovy job. It …”

“Really makes the rest of the house look like shit, don’t it?”

Micky laughed softly. “Pretty much! But hey, maybe I’ll just pitch a tent and live on the porch from now on!”

“I hope not!” Mike said, feeling a stab of concern, as he always did when Micky joked about stuff like that. He didn’t want to leave feeling like Micky wasn’t going to be okay. He wanted to make sure the boy had a roof over his head and people to keep him warm at night.

Unless …

He shook his head. He was still being a big chicken about asking Micky to come away with him. In fact, he’d been trying really hard to distract his mind from the idea. What business did he have getting so hung up on the kid, anyway? He’d tried distancing himself a little bit. Tried bringing a girl into their bed … and then making love to Micky all the next morning.

_Christ, you’re hopeless, Nesmith. Utterly hopeless._

And then he saw Micky wheel the bike over to him and fill up the motorcycle’s fuel tank from a small container of gasoline he’d siphoned off one of the cars he was working on.

“Gassin’ her up …” Mike said softly. “Does that mean …”

Micky nodded. “She’s ready for the road. You get first honors.”

“Oh, no, Micky. You rebuilt this thing from a heap of bolts and rust. You should take the first spin.”

“Nuh-uh. I think it would be bad luck. If you’re riding her all the way out to California … first ride should be you. I insist. For karma.”

Mike pursed his lips and nodded to Micky. “Both of us, then. I’ll drive.”

Micky grinned. “Okay, stubborn.”

“You know it.”

Mike raised the kickstand and slung a leg over, setting into the seat. And then he felt Micky sliding in behind him, wrapping his hands around Mike’s hips. Mike started the engine and got almost an immediate hard-on when the engine roared to life.

“Oh god, Micky …”

“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” Micky murmured in Mike’s ear.

And then they took off down the dirt road. The bike was a little creaky, but it drove like a dream. Mike felt its power between his legs and pictured rocketing to California in no time.

And he also felt Micky’s lips nuzzling his ear and the occasional murmured exhortation of delight at the bike. Barely restrained pride in his work. Micky had wrapped his arms fully around Mike’s torso and Mike felt him move in concert with Mike’s body as they leaned into curves.

And then Mike knew two things: one, that Micky really knew how to ride a motorcycle, and two, that he couldn’t possibly deny his feelings for Micky any longer, and the fact that he’d even tried to was ridiculous … because he could no longer picture a scenario where he rode out of Violets on this bike without Micky’s warm, slender body pressed up against his like this. There was no question about it: Micky had to come with him. He just had to.

The words were on the tip of his tongue as they came back into the town, but as soon as they stopped, they were surrounded by their friends who wanted to admire the bike and clamouring to take a test ride. And by then the moment had long passed. Again … Mike’s question would have to wait.

* * *

By the next day the question was burning a hole in his chest. Micky was taking an afternoon nap, so Mike decided to try packing up the bike with his meager belongings to see how much he could reasonably take with him, while also factoring Micky’s weight into the equation.

 _He’ll see me packing. And he’ll know for sure I’m leaving soon. And then I can ask him_.

* * *

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Micky came out of the house, rubbing his eyes, and saw Mike hanging his duffle bag across the back of the bike, then standing back to take a look. His guitar case had a cross-body shoulder strap so it could be worn.

“All seems to fit pretty well,” Micky said softly.

Mike nodded, then took a seat on the bike, testing the weight distribution out after raising the kickstand. “Yeah … seems pretty good. It’s real groovy, Micky. I still can’t believe you gave me wheels.”

“Mike, I didn’t —”

“I know,” Mike said softly. “But it feels like you did. Just let me feel grateful, okay?”

Micky nodded, smiling sadly. The look was killing Mike and he was pretty sure he’d had a similar look on his face ever since Micky had finished the bike and Mike had finished building the porch yesterday.

Mike stared hard at the ground for a minute, took a breath, plucking up all of his courage and finally blurted out. “Come with me, Micky. Just come with me to L.A. It could be so great. You ’n’ me. Please come with me.”

Micky blinked and Mike swore he heard the gears turning as Micky’s jaw dropped. “I … you … what, Mike? Are you serious?”

“Yeah! I mean it, Micky. I’ve been … I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a long time now. Too chicken to say anything before. And … scared about what that all means about us. But I don’t wanna leave you …”

“I don’t want you to go,” Micky said, his voice thick with emotion.

“So come with me!”

“I … I … I can’t!” Micky exclaimed.

“Why not?” Mike asked, furrowing his brow.

“Why not? I got … I got stuff going on here, Mike! You know that.”

“Your pot,” Mike said dully.

Mike narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming somewhat defensive. “Yeah … my pot. You got something to say about that, Mike?”

Mike exhaled hard through his nose. “Micky … it’s one lil’ plant! I know … you gotta start somewhere, but it ain’t exactly amounting to much anytime soon, dig? Do you even really _know_ about cultivating grass? Or you just gonna water the damn thing and hope for the best?”

An expression of anger crossed Micky’s features and it was a strange, ugly look on him. Mike felt his adrenaline beginning to spike. This was all suddenly taking a bad turn and he didn’t know how to put the brakes on it.

“So you think it’s a dumb, rotten plan,” Micky said, his voice quiet but enraged. “You think I have nothing going for me here and so I might as well pick up and leave with you. You think I’m a loser. That I can’t look after myself without you.”

Mike’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t say that at all, Micky!”

“That’s what you mean, though! And what I do here is so beneath your regard that you had to ask me _why_ I’d want to stay. Yeah … I’m growing my pot. And I have my friends here. I had a life here before you arrived, Mike! I know maybe it wasn’t the biggest life, but it was mine. I was doing just fine before I met you!”

“Oh, were you really?” Mike scoffed.

“Fine enough!” Micky spat. “I was a pity fuck for you, anyway. And then you needed a place to crash, so …”

“That ain’t how it happened and you know it!” Mike yelled. “Don’t be makin’ up stories, Micky. I mean it. It was never like that with us! God, why do you think I want you to leave with me? I wanna be with you!”

“How do you know that’s gonna stick when we leave here? When we get out in the ‘real’ world, Mike?”

“Well … I don’t! But I think we should give it a shot.”

Micky snorted. “Real reassuring, Mike. I’ve … I’ve only known you for … what … a couple weeks? I’ve been with my friends here … for over a year now.”

“Right. Your friends,” Mike said dismissively, and immediately regretted his tone.

“Yeah. My _friends_. And what makes you think you’re any better than them, huh?” asked Micky angrily.

“What do you mean?”

Micky’s eyes flashed, his breath and words coming faster in his anger. “You talk like all they do is boss me around and that they don’t respect me … and here you are, doing the exact same thing!”

“That ain’t true, Micky!” Mike retorted. “How can you say that, I —”

“You think my plans are stupid,” Micky interrupted, his voice quieter and somehow that broke Mike’s heart even more.

“Micky …” he implored.

“You think you know what’s best for me … or what’s best for you and I’m just part of the plan. Isn’t that right? You think we make a nice sound together and might help your dream come true. But what about me? Am I just a prop to play drums and harmonize with you?”

“What are you talkin’ about,” Mike said desperately. “I want you to be part of this … part of my life now, Micky. It could be so good for us.”

“Good for you!” Micky cried.

“No!” Mike yelled. “For _us_! Can’t you see that?”

“Haven’t you figured out by now that maybe we have different definitions of _good_?” Micky yelled back. “I’m good right here! Right here, Mike! You’re asking me to go, but I’m asking you to _stay_! We have _everything_ we need right here! Food and shelter and friends and … _us_. That’s so much more than so many people get to have. Why do you need more? We have so much here, Mike!”

“This ain’t shit, Micky!” Mike yelled. “I dunno where you got those rose-colored glasses, but I ain’t seein’ things the same way. And it ain’t gonna last. This is some pie-in-the-sky bullshit, you dig? It’s already changing … the vibe here. Twila sees it, too.”

“Well, maybe _Twila_ will want to go with you to LA. instead,” Micky sneered. “She clearly seems to really ‘get’ you, man.”

“Oh … fuck off, Micky!” Mike growled and revved the bike up.

“Real mature!” Micky yelled as Mike roared away, kicking up dust down the road. “Real fuckin’ mature, Nesmith!”

He let out a frustrated yell and kicked fruitlessly at some rocks on the road until it occurred to him that Mike had packed up everything he owned on the bike. Burned the one bridge he had with Violets.

Micky felt a sharp stab of pain with the realization that maybe that was the way he and Mike had just said goodbye forever.

_I love you. This can’t be how it ends._


	6. From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all gets much worse before it gets better.

Mike drove furiously several miles down the road when he abruptly pulled over, leaning over the handlebars and panting, his heart racing after the unexpected fight with Micky. In the time they’d spent together, they’d never shared a cross word between them. But that was when Mike was just the Johnny-come-lately in Violets. That was how it was supposed to be. He had only meant to spend a night to rest and then continue on his way. Instead, he’d … fallen in love.

_Wasted weeks here … no … not wasted. Micky wasn’t a waste of time. He … isn’t!_

He had to go back. He had to. Even if he couldn’t resolve things with Micky, Mike knew he couldn’t leave it like this. There had been times in his life before when he’d split a heavy scene in anger. And had always regretted it. Always. He couldn’t leave Micky this way. He’d never forgive himself.

He turned the bike around — the beautiful bike Micky had lovingly restored for him — and started back toward Violets, more slowly this time. He felt like shit.

_I said it all wrong. No wonder he felt like I was trying to use him for my own ends. Couldn’t even tell him I loved him. All I could do was demand he drop everything and come with me on my terms. He built you a motorcycle and this is how you thank him … yelling at him and running away … you asshole._

It was coming on nightfall by the time Mike got back to Violets. He thought about going back to Micky’s, but he wasn’t ready yet. He was still worked up and worried that Micky was furious about him taking off the way he did. Mike found himself pulling up in front of Jerry and Twila’s house. Jerry was lounging on the porch, smoking a joint and raised a hand in greeting, raising his eyebrows at Mike’s fully packed bike.

“You finally heading for the coast, man?”

Mike nodded, then shook his head. “Yeah. But … I had a bit of a bust-up with You Know and I took off like the jerk I am. I … can I crash here tonight while we both cool down? I don’t want to leave things with him the way they are right now.”

Jerry nodded. “No problem, brother. You made the right choice. Leaving in anger is never the way to go. You hungry? Twila’s making spaghetti.”

Mike shrugged. “Not really, but I probably should eat.” He got off the bike and hauled his duffel off the back, trudging up the stairs. Jerry patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mike. Things will be okay. You Know is a groovy kid. He’ll come around.”

Jerry being nice to him just made Mike feel worse. Jerry wasn’t a perfect guy, but Mike wasn’t enough of a hippie to fully be on the Free Love train. All he could think was that he’d screwed Jerry’s girl behind his back and now he was leaning on the guy for charity after Mike’s latest screw-up.

Out back, Twila stepped away from the boiling pot of water on the fire, and looked at Mike quizzically, holding a wooden spoon in her hand. Her blue eyes shone with confusion … but also concern.

“Mike?” she said. “What’s this about you having an argument with You Know?”

Mike rubbed his hands over his face. “I asked him to come with me to California. But I think I did it all wrong. He said he couldn’t leave because of his pot, and I … kinda gave him a hard time about it. It’s just one little plant, right? I thought it wasn’t a big deal …”

“It is a big deal … to him,” said Twila, then leveled a look at Jerry that Mike couldn’t read.

Jerry shook his head _no_ at Twila and Mike felt angry tension crackle between the couple.

“What … what do you mean?” Mike asked. “Is there something I need to know?”

Twila opened her mouth, but Jerry silenced her with another hard glare. “No, Mike. It’s nothing. C’mon, man … we’ll get you set up in the living room. You can go see You Know in the morning. Twi … get supper out for us.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Twila muttered irritably, turning back to poke at the cooking noodles with the spoon.

Something heavy was going on between Twila and Jerry and Mike felt even more uncomfortable sharing a meal with them while they pretended everything was fine. The conversation was stilted, and Mike only managed to get a few bites down before apologizing to Twila, not wanting her to think he didn’t like her cooking.

“It’s okay, Mike,” Twila said softly. “You’re upset about You Know. You’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” Mike said, putting down his fork and pushing his plate away. “He was pretty pissed at me. I … I wish I could redo the entire thing. It came out all wrong. I just … really think we have something groovy going … just us together. The music thing is just a bonus. And his family is in California. It just seemed to make sense to me.”

“It does make sense,” said Twila, looking at Jerry again. “Maybe if he had some extra motivation to leave …”

Mike furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

Jerry stood up abruptly and slammed his chair into the table and began to clear the dishes.

“Twi …” Mike murmured, looking imploringly at his friend.

Twila just shook her head sadly and got up to help Jerry.

* * *

They all smoked a joint together, which helped mellow the atmosphere a little, and then Mike slid under the blankets in his makeshift bed on the floor, unsure if he would be able to sleep. He wanted to be back in the cozy bed with Micky … in the little ramshackle house that had felt more like home than anywhere he’d laid his head in the past year.

Jerry and Twila were in bed in the adjoining room. They murmured quietly to each other and Mike found himself trying to listen in, even though he felt embarrassed about it. There was clearly something hanging in the air between them. Something that involved Micky and Mike needed to know what it was. But all he caught were whispered snatches of conversation.

“You have to tell him …”

“It’s … gone too long, Twi …”

“So? It’s not fair, Jerry. He needs all the information …”

“Drop it. I think you’re just leaning on this to avoid answering my question. Have you thought more about it?”

“Yeah … I have.”

“… and?”

“I’m still thinking.”

“Twila …”

“Don’t push me, Jerry!”

“Well … c’mon … let’s make love at least.”

“… no. I’m not in the mood.”

“Babe …”

“Mike’s in the next room …”

“So what? He doesn’t care.”

“I said I’m not in the mood, Jerry! Just drop it.”

“ … _fine_.”

Silence fell and Mike drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Mike awoke again it was pitch-black, but he smelled something strange. Smelled like … burning. He sat up blearily, rubbing his eyes, hearing stirring in the next room.

“Jerry? Twila?” Mike called out. “What’s … what’s that smell? Did you leave a candle burning?”

“No,” Jerry mumbled from the bedroom. “No … I’m always … oh, man, smell that … what the hell …”

Mike started fumbling for his clothes as Jerry shuffled out onto the porch and gazed out, squinting into the dark. “Jesus … it’s a fire! A big one. It’s coming from the direction of You Know’s place!”

“What … WHAT?” Mike exclaimed, his heart leaping into his throat. He grabbed his jeans and shoved his legs into them. “Oh my god … Jesus … Micky … Micky!”

“What … who’s Micky?” Jerry asked confused.

“It’s his damn name!” Mike barked, tugging on his boots and stumbling out into the night. “If any of you assholes had ever bothered to ask him!”

“I … what?” Jerry said, then registered what Mike was doing. “Mike … Mike, man! Be careful. Oh, fuck …” he stumbled back into the bedroom where Twila threw his pants at him.

“Go … GO!” she screamed, halfway dressed herself. “Go and I’ll call the others. I’ll get Sandy to call the fire department in Brandonville and be right behind you. Don’t let him do anything stupid!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jerry muttered, pulling his pants on and shoving his feet into his shoes. “What are we gonna do?”

* * *

Jerry ran as fast as he could and just caught up with Mike as he stood, momentarily frozen, staring in horror at what he saw.

Micky’s house was fully ablaze, flames consuming the entire frame and licked along the window frames. And then there was a huge _crrraaaack_ as the brand-new roof on Mike’s brand-new front porch completely collapsed into a burning wreck, blocking the front door. Seconds later the front windows from Micky’s bedroom exploded, sending shards of glass flying. The noise jarred Mike from his frozen shock.

“MICKY!” Mike screamed and raced toward the burning house. Jerry leaped forward and tackled him around the chest, forcing him back.

“It’s too late, man!” Jerry cried. “You’ll die if you go in there … it’s too late!”

Mike struggled, unable to comprehend at first, continuing to scream Micky’s name. “LEMME GO! _He’ll_ die in there!”

“If he’s in there, he’s already done for!” Jerry said. “He’s gone, man … look at it … it’s an inferno … if he ain’t out, he’s not getting out …”

"WE DON'T KNOW THAT!" Mike yelled. "Check the back ... maybe he's trying to get out there ... we have to check, Jerry!"

Jerry cursed and agreed, letting Mike go and they raced around to the back of the house, but there was no Micky, and the flames were consuming the back porch, making entry impossible. Mike kept trying to get close to the windows to look inside, but the heat kept driving him back. In his mind he heard Micky screaming for help. Trapped and calling for Mike. _Where are you, Micky? I can't get to you, dammit ..._

He picked up a rock and was about to break a window when Jerry caught his arm. "What the hell are you thinking? You can't go in there! It's too late, Mike!" Jerry looked at him sorrowfully. "It's too late, man ..."

Mike lowered his arm and let out an enraged sob. “So we’re just gonna let it _burn_?”

Mike looked like he was still poised to find a way into the blazing house, so Jerry turned him roughly around, grabbing him up by the upper arms and forcing Mike to look at him. “What else can we do? We don’t got a fire department here. We don’t even got enough people for a bucket brigade to put this out in time. Come on, man ...” He kept a firm hold on Mike's upper arm and led him back around to the front to get a safe distance away from the fire.

Mike wrenched himself out of Jerry’s grasp, and started to weep as he stumbled back to the front yard. “This place is messed up, man. You can’t … I can’t live like this! No fire department, no hospital … what the hell are you fucking idiots gonna do the next time something heavy happens? He’s dead … Micky’s dead … he’s burning in there … oh god, Micky …” Mike fell to his knees, shaking, burying his head in his hands with a sob.

Jerry blinked back tears and put his hands on Mike’s shoulders, mumbling, “We don’t know for sure, okay … maybe … maybe he wasn’t home … maybe he crashed with someone else because he was upset …”

Mike shrugged him off with a snarl. “Don’t touch me, man … this is … your fault! You brought him out here to this godforsaken place … _you brought him here, man_ …”

“I …” Jerry said, then shook his head, speechless. Mike was in shock, and frankly, so was Jerry.

More people started to arrive, gasping at the leaping flames and billowing black smoke.

“Oh, my god!” cried Jessica. “Where’s You Know?”

“Yeah, where is he?” asked Twila, running up to Jerry. “He got out, right? Sandy called for the firemen in Brandonville, but it’ll take them a while to get here.”

Jerry swallowed, shaking his head at Twila. “We … we don’t know. But he ain’t out here and … the house was too far gone by the time we found it. It’s the middle of the night, babe … where could he be? No one else was there … how else did the fire get started?” _Jesus, that’s right. If he wasn’t home … how did the fire get started? I told him and told him again to be careful … he nearly burned down Jessica’s house that one time …_

Twila let out a gasping sob. “Oh my god …”

“No …” Jessica moaned. “You Know …”

Later on he’d realize it had only lasted seconds, but Mike spiraled down into a pit of guilt and despair. _I should have been there with him. If I’d been there he wouldn’t be doin’ whatever fool thing he did to set the house on fire. Or I would have been able to get him out. Why did I take off on him like that? Why do I gotta be the way I fucking am?_

He curled up on himself, sobbing. _No, Micky … I love you … please …_

And then there was a voice. A clear, high-pitched panicked voice. “Hey … what’s happening, guys … oh my god, MY HOUSE! HOLY SHIT! OH, NO!”

“You Know!” Jessica yelled.

“Oh, thank god!” Twila cried, tugging on Jerry’s arm, causing him to turn and let out a relieved cry.

Choking on tears, Mike was barely able to raise his head in the direction of the voice. And then he saw Micky running up to them, holding the rusty beer can he used to water his plant.

“Oh my god!” Micky repeated. _“My house!”_ And then he looked down at Mike, who stared up disbelievingly at the boy, shaking, tears streaming down his face.

“Mike?” Micky said softly, tossing aside the beer can and dropping to his knees, reaching for him. “Mike … you came back! … are you all right?”

“Oh my god …” Mike choked, flinging his arms around Micky. “Micky! Micky you’re alive … I thought you were in there … I thought you were burning and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t get to you … oh, god, Micky …” Mike broke down into tears again.

“No, no, no,” Micky said, hugging Mike tightly, rocking him. “I’m okay, Mike. I’m fine. Shit … I had a bad dream and so I smoked a little to calm down, you know? But part of the dream was that an animal ate my plant and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I decided to go and check. I musta … I guess I didn’t put out the joint all that good ’cuz I was sleepy.”

“You fool boy,” Mike mumbled into Micky’s neck, his tears starting to slow, but unable to let him go. “You goddamn fool … you scared me half to death … I really thought you were …” he choked up again.

“I didn’t know you cared that much,” said Micky softly, smiling. “I thought you hated me. You took off and left and …”

Mike was silent for a moment, then grabbed Micky by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Hate you? Micky … I … goddammit, I love you. It’s why I asked you to go with me. But I said it all wrong … I shouldn’t have said what I said … I’m sorry …”

Micky blinked and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Now … don’t go sayin’ things in the heat of the moment, Mike. You don’t mean that.”

“I love you,” Mike muttered, clinging to him. “I love you, Micky. I thought you were gone … I couldn’t bear it … Micky …”

Now Micky was choking up. “Aw, Mike … Mike, I love you, too. I love you so much. Please don’t cry. Everything is going to be fine.”

Mike just shook in Micky’s arms and then he felt other arms as Jerry, Twila, Jessica, and others wrapped their arms around both of them, so relieved that no one had died.

“Oh, You Know … You Know … we were so scared …”

“Are you all right, You Know? Your groovy house …”

“It’s okay,” Micky said, over and over, more to Mike than anyone else. “I didn’t have anything in there worth keeping. All I need is … you.” He looked up at his friends, touched by their concerned faces, but he realized all he truly cared about was the trembling man in his arms. “And my real name is Micky. Call me Micky, okay?”

* * *

The house continued to burn, but it was separate enough from other structures that it wasn’t spreading and so they just waited until the Brandonville volunteer fire department arrived. But since there was no hydrant system in Violets, it took them longer to connect their hoses to a nearby pond to try to douse the flames enough to control them as the house burned.

Mike and Micky slowly got to their feet, still clinging to each other, when Twila came over and grasped Micky’s arm. “Micky … we need to talk to you.”

“What?” Micky exclaimed. “Twi … look, it’s not a good time, I —”

“Now, Micky!” Twila cried, and Mike met her eyes, realizing she meant the subject she and Jerry had been hiding from Micky.

“Go,” he said softly. “Go, Mick … I think this is important … she’s using your real name.”

“Mike …” Micky whispered.

“I’ll be okay, babe,” Mike said, stroking Micky’s arms. “You’re alive … that’s all that matters. I’ll be right here.”

“Okay,” Micky said softly, then turned to Twila and followed her a few feet away to Jerry.

And then Mike saw Twila grab Jerry’s arm and jerk him around to face Micky, yelling, “Tell him! Tell him now, Jerry! Or I will! I swear I will!”

Mike watched from afar, as Bingo and Eddie and Jessica urged him away.

“C’mon, Mike … Twila said you were crashing at their pad … let’s go back. Let them be.”

“No … no!” Mike said, jerking away from their tugging hands. “I’ll stand here, but I need to make sure Micky is okay!”

But Micky was not okay.

Mike couldn’t make out exactly what was happening because Jerry was speaking softly at first and Twila was holding Micky’s shoulder, as if to comfort him, but Micky jerked away from her touch and yelled, “You told me it was grass!”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, You Know!” Jerry exclaimed. “I didn’t think there was any harm in you dreaming!”

“But everyone said it was grass!” Micky cried, shoving up against Jerry, indignant.

“They didn’t want to hurt you, either!” Jerry yelled.

Twila inserted herself between the two angry men. “JERRY!”

“They all knew, Jer?” Micky said, devastated. “All this time? THEY ALL KNEW? Even Mike?”

“… not Mike …” Jerry hung his head in shame; Twila reached for Micky, but he let out a sob and ran from them.

“Micky!” Mike cried, watching him take off. He let out a frustrated cry and looked at Jessica, Eddie, and Bingo, who looked at the ground, equally ashamed. Mike ran up to Twila and Jerry. “What the hell was that?” Mike cried. “What did you say to him? About his pot?”

Jerry glared at Mike and waved a dismissive arm, stalking away.

“Twila?” Mike looked at her accusingly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wanted Jerry to tell You Know … Micky … a long time ago. Even before you showed up. It wasn’t fair to him.”

“I still don’t understand exactly what was said …” Mike said desperately. His head was still so muddled from the shock of thinking Micky had been caught in the fire. What was happening?

“Go find him,” Twila said, squeezing Mike’s arm. “Go talk to him. He’ll be with his plant. I know it. Just go to him.”

Mike let out a frustrated sound and turned to run in Micky’s direction, hoping to hell that Twila was right about his destination.

* * *

And again, Mike found himself on the same street, heading in the same direction, looking for the same boy. Only this time he was running and this time that boy was someone who’d come to mean everything to him.

He saw Micky sitting with the remnants of his pot plant, which had been ripped out at the roots. His face was smeared with dirt and streaks from the tears rolling down his cheeks as he wept.

“Micky,” Mike whispered, drawing closer. “Micky … what’ s wrong? What happened?”

Micky looked up at him, sorrow and betrayal written on his face. It broke Mike’s heart.

“Mike, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” he asked dully, wiping at his nose with his dirty sleeve.

“What? No, of course not. Micky … are you okay? I’m so sorry about your house …”

Micky shook his head. “No … forget the house. It was a dump and we both know it. You probably doubled its value just by rebuilding that beautiful porch. But that’s not what I’m getting at.” He looked at Mike, his eyes bright with hurt. “I just wanted to know … did you know as well? Did they tell you, too? They told me they didn’t and that you didn’t know, but I can’t believe anything they say now …”

Mike sank down to sit across from Micky. “Did I know what? What the hell did Jerry tell you, Micky? I was crashing at their place and I heard them talking about something … Twila said you deserved to know something … but what is it, Micky?”

Micky studied his face keenly, then gave a small, relieved smile. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Micky!” Mike exclaimed. “Know what? You’re … just … tell me already!”

“My pot plant … it’s a fake,” Micky said. “Just a dumb garden weed that looks like pot. Being lovingly tended to by a dumb loser who couldn’t tell the difference. But everyone else knew. They knew, Mike!” Mike looked imploringly at Mike. “They all knew and … no one told me!”

“What?” Mike said, shocked.

“Jerry said they didn’t want to spoil it for me. Like I’m some dopey little kid and they’re all still pretending Santa Claus is real for my sake. It’s … it’s …” Mike trailed off, his lip quivering.

“Fucking demeaning is what it is,” Mike said quietly, shifting to sit next to Micky and putting his arms around him. “C’mere, baby …”

Micky sniffled and let Mike hold him, tucking his head under Mike’s chin. “I feel so stupid. I knew they laughed at me behind my back, but I figured it’s ’cos I’m kinda goofy sometimes. And because I was a virgin. It didn’t make me feel good, but this … knowing it was because they were all keeping this secret and thought I was a real dummy and —”

“Stop,” Mike said softly, cutting Micky off. “You’re not a dummy, Micky. I saw your plant … it looked real legit to me. And they were the stupid ones for not telling you the moment someone figured out it wasn’t real pot. They should have told you. I would have told you. That’s probably why they kept it from me, too. Because they knew I’d tell you. I’ll always be straight with you, Micky. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Micky said, his voice still miserable, but he snuggled closer into Mike’s warmth. “And I wanna go with you. To California. All the things I thought I had here … it was all nothing. All a lie. And even if it wasn’t … you’re everything, Mike. I would have really been as dumb as they said if I’d let you go and didn’t get a chance to take it back. I really thought … I thought you were gone for good.” And then Micky started to cry again, softly. “I thought I’d never get a chance to tell you I was in love with you.”

“Micky, Micky, Micky,” Mike mumbled, holding his boy tighter and kissing the top of his head. “I was mad … at myself, mostly. I was real scared. And I said it all wrong. I said stuff that made me almost as bad as those so-called ‘friends’ of yours who tell you that you’re dumb.”

“No, Mike, I —”

“No,” Mike interrupted. “I did. And I didn’t mean it. I just … didn’t expect you to turn me down flat, I guess. I let my ego get in the way. And I thought about leaving for real, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not without saying goodbye.” He looked down and gently tipped Micky’s chin up, and looking tenderly at him, gently wiping away a few tears that streaked through the dust and dirt on Micky’s face. “Not without kissing you goodbye.” He pressed a soft kiss to Micky’s trembling mouth. “And telling you I loved you. Even if I had to let you go. I was going to tell you all that in the morning.”

“No, no, no.” Micky shook his head. “Don’t let me go. You have to keep me. Okay?”

Mike smiled. “Okay. I promise. God … especially after I thought I lost you in that fire. Those were honestly the worst few minutes of my life. I didn’t know what I was gonna do …”

Micky clung to Mike and Mike cuddled him close, brushing kisses over his head and ear and face. “I love you, baby. We’ll stick together, you and me. We’ll do it all together.”

“Together,” Micky said softly, looking up at Mike, and in that moment — in the very same spot where they’d first kissed several weeks ago — they knew they’d made an important promise to one another. Almost a vow. And Micky felt a sense of calm wash over him. Everything had changed so fast for him. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. All he had in the world were the clothes on his back. And Mike. And Micky knew that was all he truly needed. Just Mike. The rest they’d figure out together.

“C’mon, baby,” Mike said softly. “We need to go get some sleep. I’m sure Jerry and Twila have gone back to bed. You don’t have to see them. But we need to get some rest if we’re going to hit the road tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. But I don’t wanna do a whole goodbye thing. I’m … still pretty mad.”

“Are you sure? This was your home for quite a while. These people were your family.”

“Some family,” Micky muttered, reluctantly letting Mike go and getting to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans and casting one more forlorn look at the grave of his pot-growing dream.

But then Mike’s hand closed around his and Micky felt a new dream starting up. Mike looking so beautiful and free as he drove down the highways across America … with Micky bringing up the rear. Surely they’d have some adventures on the way. Micky allowed himself to feel excited about this big change. He was ready.

Mike let go of Micky’s hand so he could sling an arm around the boy’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Are we crazy, Micky? Is this crazy? What we’re gonna do?”

“The whole world’s gone crazy,” Micky murmured, slipping his arm tightly around Mike’s waist. “So what does it matter? As long as we do it together.”

* * *

When they climbed into Mike’s makeshift bed on the floor, Mike could hear Twila and Jerry talking in low tones in their bedroom, but he pulled Micky close and kissed his neck. “Sorry I keep grabbin’ on ya, but just … I thought you were dead tonight. And it’s gonna take some time for me to get over that.”

“I like it when you ‘grab on me,’” Micky said softly. “When you hold me. It’s okay, Mike. You can be scared. I would have been scared, too. I was just so happy that you’d taken all your stuff out of the house. Especially that beautiful guitar!”

“I was glad you took _yourself_ out of that house, Micky,” Mike said. “That place was bound to go up at some point or another. No matter how careful you were. It was an accident waiting to happen. I promise you … we’re getting a place with electric lights and running water when we get to California.”

“Oooh, so fancy … is your real name William Randolph Hearst?” Micky joked.

Mike nuzzled his shoulder playfully. “My real first name is Robert. But don’t get any ideas, because I hate it.”

“Robert Michael Nesmith,” Micky said slowly. “I think it’s nice.”

“Oh, is that so, _George_?”

“Touché.” Micky winced.

“I love you, Mick.”

“I love you, too … Robby.”

“Boy, this trip just might be over before it even starts!”

Micky giggled. “Sorry, I just had to say it once. … and I love you, too, Michael.”

They fell asleep holding hands.

* * *

The next morning, Mike and Micky quietly rose and let themselves out of Jerry and Twila’s house.

“We’ll stop in the next town we hit and get something to eat and wash up a little bit,” Mike said, handing Micky one of his T-shirts. “Here … looks like we’ll be sharing wardrobe for a little while until we can get you some new things.”

“I like your things,” Micky said, tugging off his dirty shirt and shoving it into Mike’s bag before shrugging into the clean one. He looked down at himself. “Hey, it’s Triumph … like the bike!”

“Triumph is my favorite motorcycle company,” Mike said, smiling softly. “When I found those bikes … and you said you could fix one … it felt like, I dunno … a sign.”

Micky smiled, slipping his jacket on, and then helped Mike fasten his duffel bag securely to the bike.

And then they heard the front door open and a soft woof as Max the dog approached. Mike and Micky looked up to see Twila slipping out the front door, fully dressed and carrying a large shopping bag. She smiled at them and walked over, Max at her heels.

“I see you’re also not a big fan of goodbyes,” she said quietly.

“Where are you going?” Micky asked, concerned.

Twila shrugged, and reached into her bag, pulling out a large folded piece of paper and unfolding it, showing it to Micky. The word _MICHIGAN_ was printed on it in bold black marker.

“Michigan?” Mike said in disbelief.

Another shrug. “Why not? I’ve never been. It was where I was trying to go when Jerry picked me up. I’m going to keep trying to get there, but maybe I’m meant to be someplace else for a while first, like I was with Violets. It’s been groovy, but it’s time to go.”

“Did Jerry ask you to marry him?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, but it was more than that. Just everything changing and that whole scene with not telling Micky the truth about his plant. I’m so sorry, Micky. I really am. I didn’t think it was a good idea at all, but Jerry had been keeping the lie going for months already by the time I came to town. It wasn’t my place … or maybe I was just chicken.”

“It’s okay,” Micky said, but he didn’t really mean it. Not yet, anyway.

Twila smiled wanly, then her expression changed and she snapped her fingers. “Oh! I am glad I caught you before you left. I … got you both something. A going-away present, I guess.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Mike.

“I wanted to. And I made two … because … well, I hoped that Micky would decide to go with you to California after all.”

“You made … what?” asked Micky, curious.

“I’m not a very traditional girl,” said Twila, rooting around in her bag, “but I always liked knitting. It’s relaxing and then you have something groovy you can wear when you’re done. And I know it gets awfully windy on those roads when you’re going fast. Help keep your hair out of your face.” Twila extended her arm, holding two woollen knit hats with pom-poms, one in dark green and one in blue.

“Oh, that’s really groovy,” said Mike, taking the green one and putting it on. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve always been wearing it,” said Twila.

Micky grinned, but looked doubtful at the blue hat. “I dunno … with all this hair … hats don’t really work so good on me.”

“Just try it on,” Mike urged.

“Okay … but I warned you …” Micky grimly forced the hat onto his head and the result was … hysterical. Mike and Twila clapped their hands over their mouths to contain their laughter as Micky’s hair squished out of the bottom of the hat like poodle ears.

“Oh god, that’s awful,” said Mike, still laughing. “Take it off. Please.”

“I told you!” Micky grumbled, pulling the hat off and vainly fluffing his curls out. “Here …” he held the hat out to Mike “now you have two.”

“Thanks, Twila,” said Mike. “That’s real nice of you.”

Twila smiled and shrugged. “Well, I better get going. Want to try to hitch a ride before the sun gets too hot. Good luck in California! I hope I hear you on the radio someday!”

“You take care of yourself, Twi,” Micky said softly.

Mike nodded. “Be careful out there.”

“I always am. And you’re coming with me, aren’t you, Max?” Twila smiled at the dog, who barked and wagged his tail. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Twila waved and headed off toward the main road.

Mike shook his head. “She’s a mystery, that one. A real groovy girl.”

Micky cleared his throat and Mike grinned at him. “You ain’t jealous are you?”

“I’m wearing your clothes and sharing your bed and going cross-country with you. I’m feeling pretty secure about where I stand.”

Mike laughed softly and slipped his arms around Micky, kissing him long and deep. Very aware that they were leaving a place where it was pretty safe to do so in public. Things would be different in the “real world,” but it was worth it if it meant Micky was by his side.

Reluctantly letting his boy go, Mike turned and swung his leg over the bike, settling in, with Micky sitting behind him.

“I also need to find a post office wherever we stop for breakfast,” said Micky.

Mike glanced back at him. “Oh yeah? What for?”

Micky shrugged and smiled. “Gotta write my folks. Tell them I’m coming home to California.”

Mike grinned. “Oh, yeah! They’re gonna be real happy to hear that.”

“But I’m not going back to live with them!” Micky yelled over the roar of the engine as Mike started the bike up.

“Hell, no!” Mike called back as they pulled off and headed down the road. “You’re with me, now, baby. We stick together. We’ll find our own pad.”

“I’ve always wanted to live in Malibu,” Micky said dreamily into Mike’s ear, his arms wrapped around Mike’s torso. “On the beach.”

“That sounds expensive, Micky …”

“So we get some roommates! Wouldn’t it be groovy when we find our other bandmates that we could just rent a big house and all live together? And we could rehearse there, too! Right in the house! Doesn’t that sound far out, Mike?”

“Far out,” Mike said, smiling, content to let Micky spin new dreams into his ear as they drove off together, leaving Violets behind. Because these dreams had a place for him and the future looked brighter than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this story and being patient during the long breaks between chapters. I hope that the 2 final chapters going up within 24 hours of each other helps make up for it!
> 
> I lifted some of the dialogue from the movie for the scene where Jerry tells Micky the truth about his pot plant. It's a sad scene and poor You Know had no one to comfort him. And then that's the last we see of his character. I just wanted to give him a happier, more hopeful ending.


End file.
